Hell Motel
by Nana56
Summary: After a very long day on the road, the exhausted brothers stop at a motel for the night. They should have kept going.
1. Chapter 1

I began this story 2 years ago and finally finished it this spring. Thanks to all the wonderful betas who've taken the time to help me with this, That Girl 6, Ames 449, my daughter Annette, and Muffy Morrigan. Thanks to you all! Hugs and kisses

Standard disclaimers apply.

**WWW**

Dean's eyelids were getting very heavy. Realizing what was happening as he jerked the wheel of the Impala to bring the big car back onto the road, he shook himself awake and glanced at his sleeping brother. Sam sleeping in the car wasn't unusual, but Dean getting sleepy while driving was. The sleek black Chevy was not only his baby, but also his home. He was comfortable in her and had been known to drive for two days straight to get to a gig, no sleep involved until either the destination area had been reached or the job was done. It wasn't necessarily the wisest thing, but it was his way. This was not to be one of those times apparently. His little brother had offered to drive a few hours ago, but Dean had turned him down. He thought about waking his sibling but decided to just stop at the next motel.

Later, he would wish that he had just kept on going.

The tired hunter managed to stay awake another twenty minutes to pull the car into the parking lot of the "HELL MOTEL". He sat staring at the sign, blinking and wondering if he was seeing it correctly or if the fatigue was making him hallucinate. After a few seconds, he realized that some of the lights in the sign had burned out. What it really said was "SEASHELL MOTEL" with a seashell design next to the name. The lights for the seashell had also burned out. Dean sighed, rested his head on the back of his seat, and ran his hands over his face. _Great, just great._ God, he was tired. He rolled his head to look again at his not-so-lightly snoring brother and decided to let Sam go on sleeping while he went in to get them a room. He could wake Sam when he got back, and they could get themselves some real sleep. Squinting at his watch, he saw that it was . . . three a.m. _Sheesh._

"I'll be back in a few minutes, little brother," he said quietly as he opened the driver's door, wincing when the hinges creaked, but Sam would have to wake up in a few minutes anyway. He found it interesting that his brother's sleep was important to him unless the sound his car made woke him — that was okay.

He got out of the car, proceeding through the door to the dimly lit lobby where a disheveled middle-aged man sagged in an uncomfortable-looking chair. His soft, open-mouthed snores were overshadowed by the sound of the small TV set on the table in front of him. Apparently, whatever he'd been watching hadn't been enough to help him resist the call of sleep. Dean was sympathetic and hesitated to wake him, but only for a second. He needed sleep, too, so he rang the bell that was sitting on the counter.

The clerk snorted as he jumped up out of the chair and tried to pull himself together. Realizing there was someone standing at the desk, he stood to help the guest in front of him. "Yessir! Would you like a room?"

"Please," Dean replied. "Two queens, uh, Rusty." He smiled as he read the man's name tag.

"You bet!" Rusty tried to be bright and cheerful while rubbing his face to rid himself of the residual effects of sleeping on duty. "How will you be paying?"

"Do you take MasterCard?"

"Sure thing."

"Perfect," said Dean as he slid the card over and signed the form placed in front of him with the name 'Dean Wilbur'.

"Here's your key, Mr. Wilbur. Room 113, just a short distance from the office down that way." He gestured vaguely off to his right.

Dean thanked him, took the room key, started back to the car, and stopped. _Might as well get the room open first, then drag Sam's heavy ass in there_, he thought as he could see his still-sleeping brother leaned against the passenger door. He turned and located their room just a door down from where the Impala was parked — not even worth moving the car. The exhausted hunter slid the key card into the lock, pulling it back out so that the green light hesitated just a second before blinking on. He let out a sigh of relief because he didn't want the hassle of reporting the key not working and getting another one. He just wanted to get his little brother and their belongings inside. He pushed the door open and stepped across the threshold but stopped in surprise. "What the…?"

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Sam's eyes fluttered open but shut again. Something was different, but he didn't know what. His groggy mind tried to sort things out. _I'm in the Impala, so Dean must be driving and we're on our way to…_ It suddenly hit him what was different. He sat straight up and looked around to get his bearings, sleep forgotten. There was no engine sound, no Dean. Sam relaxed when it finally sank in that he was sitting in the parking lot of a motel. _Dean must be checking us in. I told him we shouldn't drive all the way through._ Thank God his brother was finally showing some common sense.

Sam decided to wait for his brother to come out of the office before he got out to unload the car. It wouldn't do any good until they had a room number anyway. He leaned back against the seat and glanced at the motel's sign. "HELL MOTEL?" he said aloud. Then he realized some of the lights were out. _Huh_, he thought. _They need to get those lights fixed. Soon. That can't be good for business._

The young hunter began to get antsy as ten minutes passed with no sign of his big brother. He checked his watch — 3:25 a.m. Sam figured several minutes had passed, at least, after they stopped before he had woken up. What was taking Dean so long? It never took this long to check into a motel in the wee hours of the morning. He squinted to see into the office, but the angle was wrong to see well. As he got out of the car for a better look, he saw a middle-aged man walk into view, stretching and yawning. Frowning, Sam headed for the office.

The clerk, finishing another stretch, patted his stomach as he greeted Sam. "Good morning, Sir! Would you like a room?"

Sam looked around for his brother without finding him, so he turned his attention to the clerk.

"I was sleeping in the car when my brother stopped here and just woke up a few minutes ago. I figure he must have come in to get us a room, but I don't see him anywhere. Guy a few inches shorter than me, spiked brown hair and leather jacket. Have you seen him?"

"Yessir," the clerk beamed. "Came in about a half hour ago and got a room with two queen beds." Sam noted the clerk's name badge — "Rusty" — as he walked back to the desk and picked up a piece of paper. "Dean Wilbur. That right?"

Sam nodded. Good a name as any. He seemed to remember his brother having a credit card in that name.

"Room 113, right down there." Rusty repeated the general wave he'd given Dean.

"Did you give him two room keys?"

"Nossir, I didn't. Let me give you one so you can get into the room yourself."

Sam nodded his gratitude, accepted the key, and headed out to find his wayward brother. The room was not hard to find. Sam put the key in the lock and the green light flicked right on. He opened the door, turned on the light switch, and found . . . a perfectly normal motel room containing two queen beds, a microwave, small refrigerator, and small round table with two chairs, but no Dean.

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Dean jumped, turning in mid-air as the motel room door slammed shut behind him. Relaxing from the defensive stance he'd landed in, he opened the door to look outside again. He sucked in a breath as he saw a dark hall, lighted by two oil lamps, with doorways on either side and one at the end. He looked back into the room that he'd entered and through the door again. "Where the hell is my car? Where the hell is my brother?" he yelled. There was no response at all, not even an echo.

Closing the door, he leaned against it to take stock of the room he was in. There was a huge four-poster bed with a canopy and draping side curtains on the left. The bed was so high, there was a little stair step on the floor next to the bed to aid in getting into it. On the far wall were two long shuttered windows covered with heavy drapes, one on either side of a dressing table. The dressing table held a lighted oil lamp which gave the room a warm glow. A large wardrobe took up most of the wall to Dean's right. He turned to look at the wall that was behind him; some darkish paintings hung on the wall either side of the door. He was surprised to see that the door was of a heavy wood, dark like the rest of the woodwork in the room. The door he'd entered from the outside had been the typical heavy metal motel room door.

Dean realized that he'd been standing with his mouth open and clamped it shut. _What the hell is going on here?_ he wondered. _How am I going to get back to Sam? Is he going to end up in here, too?_ Dean began to study the room carefully in hopes of finding a way out to his reality _and_ his brother. This was just too damn weird. He decided to check the other rooms in the hall to see if he could glean any information from them. This time he went into the hall without yelling.

"Freakin' bizarre place. Sammy, I wish you were here to see this. No, scratch that. I wish I was where you are," Dean said softly. There was no way he wanted his little brother in this place with him. If he couldn't find a way out himself, Sam might be his only means of rescue.

Looking both ways as if he were crossing a road, he decided to head left since the room he'd been in appeared to be the last one. Walking normally but not trying to make much noise at the same time, he came to the first door on his right. Since no one had responded to his yells earlier, he decided that he was in the "building" alone and didn't need to knock. Grabbing hold of the knob, Dean took a deep breath and turned it — nothing. He tried wiggling it — nothing.

Looking around and hoping that something had changed, Dean let go of the knob to walk to the next door on his left — same thing. Next door on his right — same thing. Again on his left. It was the same all the way down the hall until he came to the door facing him at the end. For some reason he didn't understand, he looked at this door with a slight feeling of dread. There seemed to be an oppressiveness here that wasn't in the rest of the hallway.

"Get it together, Winchester," he mumbled to himself.

With a last glance back down the dimly lit hall, Dean took hold of the doorknob and began to give it a turn.

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Sam stood gaping at the perfectly normal motel room. Granted, it was nothing spectacular, just a room. The queen beds were on the left, the bathroom on the far wall, the small appliances and the rest of the furnishings were on the right.

"Dean?" Sam crossed the room to the bathroom, pushing the door all the way open. No Dean.

Fully awake now, Sam turned to check for hiding places. If this was a sick joke his brother was trying to play on him, he was sooooo going to pay. What to do? Making a decision, the young hunter headed for the door and back to the office to speak to Rusty.

Rusty smiled when Sam entered. There hadn't been this much activity on this shift since he'd been hired.

"I checked the room and there's no sign of my brother. Is there an all night diner or anything like that close by that he might have walked to?"

Rusty's smile faded as Sam spoke. "No, nothing like that. He seemed pretty tired, only interested in the room and some sleep." The clerk's eyes were full of concern.

"Okay. Thanks, man. I'm sure he'll turn up." Sam turned and exited the building.

He looked at the muscle car, digging in his pocket for the spare keys he carried to get some of their stuff out of the trunk. As he stuck the key in the lock, he was happy that the car was virtually in front of their room so he didn't have to carry the heavy weapons bag far. If they were just stopping for the night, Dean usually left the weapons in the locked compartment in the trunk if they hadn't been used. Sam always felt better if they were in the room with them. _Better safe than sorry,_ he always said to his brother.

Grunting as he lifted the heavy bag, he decided to come back for their other bags. Weapons were much heavier than clothes. Normally, he could have handled all three bags and had, but he was too tired this time. Throwing the heavy bag over his shoulder, he walked the few steps to the room door and inserted the key card. The green light hesitated a second then flashed on. Sam pushed the door open without turning on the light, setting the bag on the floor. He let the door close by itself, wincing a little at the slam, and went back to the car for the rest of the bags.

Easily getting the rest of their belongings, Sam closed the trunk, made sure the doors were locked, and headed back to the room. Kicking himself for not propping the door open, he dug for the key card and inserted it once again into the lock. The green light came on immediately and he stepped into the room, this time flipping the light switch by the door. The room was flooded in light and Sam gasped.

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Dean heard a door slam behind him and let go of the doorknob, turning back toward the room he'd originally found himself in with surprise. He was pretty sure that the sound had come from there and had a momentary stab of fear that his brother might have come through the door to find himself in this creepy place.

"Sammy!" Dean shouted as he took off at a run toward the sound, slamming open the door and looking around wildly. "Sam?"

No Sam, but his eyes lit on something very odd on the floor not far from the door.

"What the…?" Dean stepped forward, kneeling down to check the object that looked suspiciously like their weapons bag. Snagging the handles, he spread them apart, unzipped the bag, and carefully looked inside. It _was_ their weapons bag. Everything appeared to be in there, confirmed by a quick inventory. How could this have happened?

"Huh," the hunter said aloud as he realized something else. Sam was, wherever he was, with only his .45 and the knife he always carried. That couldn't be good. Whatever was going on here might very well bleed into the "real" world to his little brother.

"No, you don't. You're not going after my brother!" he said to the room, fisting his hands.

Dean sat down Indian style next to the weapons bag, put his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he started to work out what was going on. He had ended up in here when he opened the motel room door. The door slammed shut behind him, and when he'd reopened it, it led to the dark hallway rather than the parking lot, the Impala, and his little brother. Dean shook his head.

_Well, at least now I'm armed_, Dean thought, getting up. He sorted through the bag to pick out his weapons for searching this place, coming up with his favorite shotgun, a box of rock salt-loaded shells, his own .45, and extra clips. He tucked the .45 into his waist band at the small of his back, the clips going into his jacket pocket. He already had his dagger in its ankle sheath, so he felt pretty well armed. _Thanks, little brother, however you did this. _He smirked. Getting himself settled for his trek, he turned to exit the room once again.

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Sam couldn't believe it. He knew he'd left the damned weapons bag right there. He leaned back and looked outside, but no one was around. It didn't make sense. He'd been only a few feet from the door and had been facing in that general direction even though he'd been digging in the trunk. No one could have stolen it. He shut the door, sitting down on Dean's bed. _Dean's bed_, he thought as he rubbed his hands over his face. Where was his brother? Totally at a loss, Sam decided to inventory what weapons he had left. He found his own .45 and had his pocket knife in his pocket, as expected, but had no other weapons, not even an extra clip. "Huh."

The youngest Winchester knew he wouldn't get any rest or even be able to sit down for any period of time until he figured out what was happening. Heading back outside, he walked all the way to the end of the building and back, the security light at the end allowing him to go around to the side and check there . . . no Dean. There were security lights at each corner, so he decided to go ahead and walk the whole perimeter of the building. _Dammit!_

Rubbing his hands over his eyes, he took another walk around the perimeter and headed back to their room. Sam wondered again if this was some cruel prank his brother was playing, but rejected that thought as soon as it crossed his mind. Dean could prank with the best of them, but he was never cruel. _Might as well try and get some rest. Dean's going to have some serious explaining to do when he finally shows up._ Sliding the card back into the slot, the light came on immediately, allowing him to enter the room. Looking sadly at his brother's empty bed, he realized his mind was growing numb and he needed to get some sleep to go at this with a fresh mind.

Stripping down to his boxer briefs, the exhausted hunter got into his bed and tried to settle himself down so sleep could come. He turned on his right side to stare in the moonlight at the other bed — empty. He closed his eyes to shut out the sight of the empty bed, hoping to fall asleep. The silence was deafening. The sound of Dean's easy breathing and soft snores should have been there. After a few seconds, he flopped back onto his back, but then had to look at the ceiling. He didn't like looking at ceilings. His eyes still refused to close, the thought of his brother not being where he was supposed to be apparently wasn't going to allow for any sleep.

_Crap! _Sam thought with frustration. Laying there fighting for sleep that wouldn't come wasn't going to do him or his brother any good. Sam got himself back together and yawned his way out to the car. He was pretty sure they kept an extra flashlight in the emergency supplies. He found his first glimpse of hope when he cleared away bandages, antiseptic, holy water, and sutures from the top of the zippered bag to uncover the Maglite. If he couldn't sleep, at least something could go his way.

Properly lit and almost properly armed, Sam headed toward the end of the motel to begin a serious search. Disgusted with himself, he knew he should have done this before, but he'd been so tired and sure that Dean would show up. But let's face it, in their line of work someone could just vanish contrary to what he'd told his brother months ago. Sam snorted. _People don't just disappear, Dean; other people stop looking for them._ The conversation with his brother came to mind, giving Sam renewed determination. He wouldn't stop. Flashing the light around in a careful motion so as not to miss anything, paying close attention to the bushes around the building, Sam did a thorough search. _Bushes are a great place to hide a body_, he reminded himself. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Sam thought, _Dean is NOT dead! I'd know it_.

Wiping at his eyes, he continued his search all the way around the motel but found nothing. Frustrated, Sam slapped the door to their room and spun around to lean on it. He looked up to the sky, seeing the stars and the beginning of morning twilight in the east. Banging his head against the door, he blinked away the tears of frustration and fear that wanted to fall, determining anew to find his brother. Sam pushed away from the door and began a wider search. If there was nothing close to the building, he'd look further away.

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Dean turned back at the sound of something banging on the door in that room again. Hesitating for a moment, he looked back down the hall, his eyes flitting across the heavy, dark wall paper, the dark pictures on the walls, and turned back to his mission. The hunter was sure there was something evil here and needed to take care of it before it went after anyone, especially Sam. He needed to kick some evil butt here, and then figure out a way to get back to his brother.

This time, Dean reached the door at the end of the hall without trying the other doors. He figured they were still locked with whatever evil that was here behind that one door anyway. Taking a deep breath, he once again took hold of the knob and began to turn it. He met some resistance, but it didn't appear to be locked so he put some muscle into it. The knob finally gave, turning all the way and allowing the door to open.

The hunter gently pushed the door open a little and waited . . . nothing. He opened it a little further and carefully peeked around the door. It was dark, very dark, but he had the definite sense of openness, like stairs going down, definitely not another room. He felt around for a light switch and found nothing. It wasn't surprising since the rest of the building seemed to be lit by oil lamps. Damn. He should have remembered to bring a flashlight or see if there was another oil lamp, at least. He had to get this over with and get some sleep. He was screwing up, and he'd be lucky if he didn't get himself hurt or worse. That wouldn't be any good for either of them.

He stood there at the top of what he knew were downward-leading steps and thought. He pushed the door fully open to see if the dim light from the hall would be of any help. It barely was. He could see the first step and the outline of another, though, confirming that this was not a room. No two ways about it, he was going to have to go back for one of the flashlights in the weapons bag. The tired hunter slapped his forehead as he sighed. _Idiot!_

He closed the door and quietly hobbled back to the _(his)_ room. Grabbing the weapons bag from the floor and putting it on the bed, he rummaged until he found one of the two bright flashlights. Checking to make sure it worked, he gathered up his little arsenal, and hobbled back down the hall to the door.

This time, he turned the flashlight on before cautiously opening the door. _Much better._ Turning the knob and pushing the door completely open, Dean stepped through the doorway onto the first step. He shined the light down the stairs, vaguely seeing dusty 'basement stuff'. Moving the light around the walls, he saw nothing of interest except some random scratch marks. He leaned down but couldn't see much of anything else, so he took another deep breath and carefully put his foot on the first step down.

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Sam was beside himself. He'd been over every square inch of ground for over two blocks in every direction with no sign of Dean. The sun was up. Coming back to the parking lot, he double checked for any signs of a struggle but there were none. The young hunter was sure he would have heard something like that. Sure, he'd been tired and asleep, but not so deeply asleep he wouldn't hear his brother in trouble. They were very well attuned to each other, so he'd know if something had happened to Dean in the parking lot. The distance from the office to the motel room door wasn't that far, and the car was right in the middle of that space. If something had happened to Dean on his way to the room or the car, it would have been virtually right beside Sam.

Running his hand through his hair, he decided to see if there was a coffee maker in the motel room; he couldn't remember. He slipped his key card into the slot and the green light flashed on immediately. Pushing down on the handle and opening the door, Sam tossed the emergency flashlight onto Dean's bed, (_Dean's bed) _and stood there with his mouth open in total shock. The little flashlight had landed on the bed next to what looked like their weapons bag.

"Dean?" Sam called into the silence but got silence in return. Hurrying across the room to the small bathroom, Sam called, "Dean? Where are you?" No answer. The bathroom door was open, but there was no sign that anyone had been there.

Astounded, Sam turned back to look at the bag on the bed, then ran over to check it out. The handles had been spread apart, the zipper was open, and there was every sign that someone had been rummaging through it. Sam did a mental inventory as he looked through the bag, realized that Dean's favorite shotgun, a bunch of rock salt shells, Dean's .45, spare clips, and one of the big flashlights were all missing. _What the hell? Dean's been through this bag._ Sam collapsed on his own bed to stare at the weapons bag in utter confusion. _What the hell is going on here? _His mind reeling, the youngest Winchester blinked to try to bring the world into some sort of focus. He looked around the room again, his eyes lighting on the little complimentary coffee pot and supplies. _That's it. I need coffee to bring myself out of this._

Sam dazedly walked over to the coffee pot and began going through the motions of preparing coffee. This was normal, mundane, something he did every day, and it was soothing. He sat down at the small table, his gaze returning to stare at the bag on the bed. Absently, he began to drum the fingers of his left hand on the table. He couldn't seem to get his mind wrapped around the situation. Nothing in the Winchester experience even came close to these events. Finally, he decided to do some more mundane things to try getting a grip on himself, let his mind rest, and maybe something would come to him.

He remembered at Stanford that many times during a particularly rough week he'd have to leave his studies to do laundry or have a meal. He'd let his subconscious mind do the work his conscious mind didn't seem to be able to do at that point. Almost every time, the solution to the problem, whatever it was, would come to him while he wasn't thinking about it. Sometimes, he'd be asleep and sit straight up in bed with the answer, scaring Jessica half to death.

He got up and grabbed his own duffle, beginning the ordinary task of finding some clean clothes and his toiletries. Going into the bathroom, he began laying his stuff out, only using half of the space so that Dean would have room for his things when he came back. His heart lurching at the thought, Sam tried to push it away so he could get on with his tasks. He walked out of the bathroom to the enticing smell of freshly brewed coffee as the little pot finished its work.

Sam poured himself a cup of the steaming liquid and turned on the TV to see if there was any local news. He'd been reluctant to go to the police, but if there was nothing on the news and his brother didn't turn up when it was over, he'd definitely warm up the laptop to see if he could find anything there. He was happy to see a card on the table that touted free internet service. That was something, at least.

The coffee was good, the hosts of the morning show entertaining, but he wasn't in the mood to be entertained or amused in any way. He switched channels until he found one that was giving the local news, but there was nothing about an unidentified man being found injured or dead. Sam shook his head violently. He was so _not_ going to think like that. He'd just have to call the hospital himself to see if anyone had been brought in fitting Dean's description. _It could have happened too late to get into the news broadcast,_ he reasoned.

Deciding to take a shower and go get some breakfast before making any calls, his stomach began to growl, making him sure he'd be better able to focus after his body was refreshed. Besides, it was another mundane thing to do. At this point, he wasn't sure he was really capable of anything complicated.

After showering and shaving, Sam had to admit that he did feel better, but he also still needed food. He dressed in the clothes he'd dug out earlier, grabbed his keys to the Impala, and headed out the door. He walked to the motel office to see where a cheap breakfast could be obtained, but found that Rusty was no longer on duty. In his place was "Kim", a petite brunette in her early twenties with a winning smile. She gave him the directions he requested, even drawing a little map on a piece of paper. Sam thanked her as he left in search of sustenance.

He found the diner with no trouble, but was surprised to find he wasn't all that hungry in spite of his stomach's earlier complaining. Knowing he had to eat anyway, he ordered a bowl of hot oatmeal with fresh strawberries. Not a lot, but it would last him a while. Dean would have scoffed at the meal, preferring greasy bacon and eggs. Sam told himself to stop feeling so down. He needed to get his act together. Being depressed wasn't going to get his brother back.

When the waitress brought his meal, Sam thanked her and dug in.

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Dean was moving carefully as he came to the midpoint in the stairs, leaning over and shining the flashlight around in the new areas it could reach. There still wasn't much of interest. There were tools over in the far corner, some shelves with jars of canned goods on them (fruits or vegetables, he was sure), but he wasn't down the stairs far enough to be able to see more. Continuing his way down, he reached the bottom, stopped and shined the light around again before deciding to go on.

The smallish room seemed empty, but he felt a chill ripple down his spine as he remembered another dusty basement in Rockford, Illinois that had held evil. He really hoped there was nothing like that here. Shining the light to the left, the hunter saw some wooden boxes stacked against the wall. He walked over to them to squint at the words stamped on them. He smiled as he realized they were boxes of wine. _Cool._ He'd come back to those. He had more pressing things to take care of right now, though.

The hunter swung the flashlight to the right, the beam landing on more shelves. These held some tins on them that turned out to be normal things one would find in a basement: nails, screws, nuts, bolts, and the like. Further to the right, he found the stack of tools in the corner he'd seen before and then the shelves holding the jars of canned goods. Moving closer to pass the light across them, Dean discovered they did, indeed hold fruits and vegetables. _Huh. Wonder how old this stuff would be back in the real world? Maybe I should try to take some back with me to give to Sam. _He smiled at the thought_._ Further to the right was the wall the stairs came down on which there was nothing of any interest at all.

Dean walked back to the steps, catching sight of something he'd missed. There seemed to be a wall to the side of the stairs to create a possible storage area beneath them. Shining the flashlight back to the stairs, he checked to see if there was open space between steps but realized that the light went no further than the stairs themselves; the backs of the steps had been closed off. Walking around to the right, Dean began to check out the wall. It was solidly built with a heavy wooden door in the middle of it.

"That's odd," he said aloud. As he moved closer to the door, he noticed a chill in the air that he was pretty sure hadn't been there before. _Nice._ He reached out for the handle and jumped as he heard a sound behind him. He shined the light around the area and didn't notice anything unusual until the light landed on the tools in the corner. They looked different somehow. He heard the sound again and saw a slight movement of the tools. _Damnit! I'll bet it's rats. Shit!_

Dean hesitated but decided to finish his inspection since he was already down there. He sure didn't want to come back if there really were rats lurking around. Turning back to the door, he saw there was also a heavy padlock blocking his way. He lifted the old lock to get a better look, and sure enough, it would be easy picking. Smirking, he put down his shotgun, stuck the flashlight under his chin, and reached into his jacket for his lock pick kit.

As he concentrated on his task, he jumped in shock when a trowel hit the wall next to him. Spinning around and shining the flashlight into the corner, he saw the tools were vibrating and generally acting like tools were not supposed to act under normal conditions. A rake shuddered and took flight in his general direction, but the experienced hunter took no further chances; it was time to _leave_. Forgetting his shotgun, he made his way to the stairs as more tools launched themselves at him, their aim improving. As he placed his left foot on the first step, he let out a yell as something very sharp hit the back of his right thigh. Falling onto the stairs, he reached back to pull a pitchfork out of his leg.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he yelled. Something else hit the wall next to his head, and he knew he didn't have time to waste. If he didn't get moving, he'd die down there, killed by possessed lawn and garden tools. Shining the flashlight back up the stairs, he tried to lift his right leg to the next step, managing to get it there, but it wouldn't hold his weight and he fell again. The pain was excruciating, but he swallowed past it and forced himself to move. He stepped up with his left leg and brought the right one up to that step. Each step was almost unbearable, but he managed to get himself up the stairs and through the door at the top.

The hunter turned to pull the door shut, but something hit the wall just beyond the door. He ducked back, but nothing further was thrown, so he reached for the door again and pulled it shut. He leaned against the wall to catch his breath, relieved when there were no further sounds of activity on the other side of the door. When his heart rate and breathing calmed a little, he headed down the hall to the first room he'd been in. The going was rough because he had to drag his right leg, only making real progress by hopping on his left, but managing to get into the room and shut the door.

He collapsed on the floor, leaned back to the door, and sucked in huge breaths. He felt like he'd run a marathon and was going to die from it. He needed to get his leg taken care of, thinking it was too bad Sammy hadn't supplied him with the emergency bag. Suddenly frowning, he noticed something very strange, the weapons bag was no longer on the bed. He looked around the room, but it was just gone.

Dean struggled to get up and tried a step, but collapsed again as his injured leg refused to do any more. "Fine!" he yelled at the room. "Just freakin' fine!" He'd fallen back against the door, banging the back of his head repeatedly on the heavy wood. "Come on, Dean. Get up, asshole." He tried again and was at least successful in getting all the way up this time. Looking toward the bed, he decided to go slow and hop on his left foot to keep the strain off his injured leg.

Halfway to the bed, he heard a sound behind him at the door. He struggled to turn without falling and couldn't believe his eyes.

"Sammy, Noooooooo!" Dean launched himself forward.

**WWW**

A/N: Like I said previously, I finished this in April. I was amazed during Episode 2 this season when Dean went upstairs at Bobby's, to see the hallway I envisioned for this fic. It was perfect! Go Kripke!

Thanks for reading. Please review! :-)


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks for all the lovely reviews! You guys really make me happy. Here's chapter two.

Standard disclaimers apply, as always.

**WWW**

Feeling fed, refreshed, and ready for the tasks he had ahead of him, Sam pulled the Impala into the parking lot in front of their room. He picked up the paper he'd purchased at the diner as he got out of the car. Looking at the front page, Sam absently stuck his key card into the slot. The green light hesitated before coming on. Still looking down at the paper, the young hunter pushed the handle down and pushed the door open. He was completely shocked as his brother screamed, launching himself into him and sending them both out onto the sidewalk in front of their room. The door slammed shut behind them.

Having automatically thrown his arms around his brother as they fell back, Sam fired off a million questions in rapid succession. "Dean? Ohmigod, Dean! What happened? Where the hell have you been? Are you okay? When did you get back? Why did you jump me like that? I've been worried sick and scared to _death_! Dean?"

"Mmphf" was the reply from somewhere in Sam's chest.

"Oh." Sam let go of his brother.

"Jeez, Sam, you trying to suffocate me? One question at a time, dude. Get off me."

"You're the one on top of me; you get off."

"Oh."

The older man rolled off his little brother onto his stomach so Sam could have his arm back. The younger man raised himself up on one elbow, regarding his big brother. He opened his mouth to make a smart-assed remark but stopped when his appraising gaze landed on his older brother's injured leg. "What the hell? You're bleeding." Sam gasped. There was blood soaked all the way down the back of his brother's right leg. The back of the thigh looked like it had been stabbed repeatedly, but the holes in the pants appeared to be in a straight line.

Dean let his head fall on his arm and sighed. "Yeah. Can I have a little help here?"

Sam jumped up, grabbed his brother under his arms, and pulled him to his feet. Dean staggered and leaned into Sam for balance, neither brother moving for a couple of seconds in their relief to be together again.

The younger man pushed Dean away slightly, not letting go of his big brother's arms as he asked, "Can you walk?"

"No, dude. You're really going to have to help me here. This hurts like a sonofabitch."

"Where did you go?" Sam put his brother's arm around his shoulders, taking most of the injured man's weight as they headed toward their door.

"Into our room. I wanted to see it to make sure it was okay before waking you up." Dean hissed as the pain in his leg once again made itself known.

"What? You haven't been anywhere near this room since we got here . . . whenever it was. I searched every square inch in a two block radius. You were _not_ here."

Sam put his key card into the slot and the green light flashed on immediately. Dean held his breath as he stared at the door in fear while the younger man pushed the handle down and opened the door. He let the breath go loudly and allowed Sam to help him through the door when he saw that it was, indeed, a motel room.

"What's wrong with you, man? It's just a room. Why did you jump me like that?" Sam helped his brother to his bed and began to move the things off it so Dean could lie down on his stomach.

"Sam, I swear, the last time I came through that door from the outside, this is _not_ where I ended up."

"Then where were you?" Sam pulled the drapes across the window to keep any prying eyes away, although he hadn't seen anyone around the motel today at all besides Kim in the office. It was too early for Rusty to be there yet.

"It was a freaky old room like something out of a Vincent Price movie or something. The door shut behind me before I could get out. When I opened it again, it led to a hallway. There was no parking lot, no Impala, and no Sam. _Dude!_" Dean couldn't help but exclaim as Sam tried to help his brother get comfortable on the bed.

"Sorry. Not sure about these jeans, man. There are four holes in the right leg. Do you want to take them off or should I just cut this pant leg off?" Sam gently took Dean's sneakers off and tossed them on the floor. The right one was soaked in his brother's blood.

"No way. These are my favorite jeans, dude. Besides, chicks love a little tease like that. I'll try to undo them and you pull them off, but _be careful._"

The older sibling tiredly rolled over on his left side to get to the button and zipper so Sam could get the jeans off. He realized that he really was wearing down when it seemed to take almost super human effort to perform that simple function. "Okay." He sighed as he flopped back down on his stomach in exhaustion.

After hesitating a second then patting his brother's left ankle, Sam began carefully tugging, pulling, and adjusting until the poor abused jeans were finally off. The brothers simultaneously breathed a sigh of relief as they both relaxed.

"What the hell got you, dude? These holes look more round than flat like a knife would have done. Did someone use an ice pick on you or something?" the younger man asked as he gently examined the wounds. The bleeding seemed to be slowing down but would definitely need tending. They appeared deep, but Sam was grateful that all major arteries had apparently been missed.

"Pitchfork" was the mumbled reply.

"Pitchfork? Who'd you piss off this time?" Sam moved to the bathroom, returning with a small wet towel and setting it on his brother's leg, wincing at Dean's sudden intake of breath. He moved to the emergency bag and came out with the bandages, antiseptics, and anything else he might need once he got the wounds clean and could better assess them.

"Sam, can we play Twenty Questions later? I'm beat. I just want you to finish this so I can get some sleep. Okay?"

"Okay, you know the drill. Ready?"

"Whatever, dude, just do it and get it done. With any luck, I'll be asleep before you finish."

"Yeah, I'll be right behind you." Sam sat down on the bed next to his brother's leg.

Dean tried to turn to give his brother an appraising look. "You okay?"

"I'm fine now that I know you didn't vanish into thin air. With you back, I'll be able to get a little sleep, too. We can go over all this later."

Satisfied, the injured man nodded, put his head down on the pillow, shut his eyes, and gave himself up to the exhaustion. He was safe now and would let his little brother take care of him for the time being. God, he was tired.

Sam poured the hydrogen peroxide on Dean's leg and held his breath. Dean flinched but made no sound as the antiseptic foamed and did its job. Sam repeated the process for each puncture, and when the foaming stopped he began to gently wipe the residue from the four holes in his brother's leg. Dean didn't move. From what Sam could see, the pitchfork must have gone in solidly but didn't seem to have done any severe damage. After applying butterfly bandages on the wounds and standing up, Sam stretched to relieve some of the tension in his shoulders. He watched Dean breathe steadily and smiled.

"Dean?" he said softly. When there was no answer, Sam cleaned up the clutter and put the items back in their pack with a mental note that they needed to get another bottle of hydrogen peroxide. _The stuff's cheap enough and we go through enough of it; we should buy it by the gallon jug, five gallon, fifty gallon barrel,_ he chuckled.

Suddenly, the young hunter was completely exhausted. He'd known he was tense but hadn't realized just how tense until he began to relax. He'd gotten his brother back and taken care of his injuries for now. There wouldn't be anything to do until he could talk to Dean when he woke up, so he decided to lie down and get some rest himself. He'd told Dean he'd get some sleep, but he really felt the need to keep watch for some reason. He didn't think he'd be able to, though, as utter fatigue washed over him and he gave in to it. The young hunter took the spread from his bed and gently covered his brother.

Sam didn't bother to remove any clothing as he lay down on his own bed. Adjusting the pillows, he lay on his right side so he could see his big brother. Dean had obviously been through quite an ordeal and Sam was anxious to hear about it, but they both needed rest. The older man's even breathing was a comforting sound to Sam. He realized that Dean hadn't even had any pain relievers. Marveling at his brother's strength and fortitude, Sam sighed and relaxed. Soon his own eyes closed, his breathing becoming even, too.

The room was quiet, but after a few minutes, Dean hitched awake. He looked around, realizing he was in a motel room as he saw his little brother asleep in the next bed. He watched Sam breathe for a minute and sent his hunter's senses out to the room. Recognizing no danger but briefly wishing his knife was under his pillow for added protection, Dean relaxed so that the very much welcome sleep could claim him once again.

The room again became quiet with the soft snores of the two brothers the only sound.

A few minutes later, Dean's bed began to shimmer: if anyone had been looking they'd have seen that the edges became blurred, a heavy bedspread appeared, and the eerie glow of an oil lamp could be seen. Slowly, the visual vanished, the room settled down, and the brothers slept on.

www

Sam jerked awake, looked around the room in confusion, suddenly remembered the events of the last twenty-four hours, and looked over to Dean's bed. His brother was still sleeping soundly, apparently not having moved from his original position. Sam glanced at the digital clock on the night stand — 2:45. He sat up quickly and rubbed his eyes. He couldn't believe he'd slept for five hours, but he felt _much_ better. His body was less fatigued and his brain was all but cobweb-free. The young hunter chuckled to himself; _Dean would have a heyday with that thought._

The younger brother got up and stood closer to Dean. The older man's sleep appeared restful; the look on his face was peaceful — no nightmares. _Is it a nightmare if it's in the middle of the day when you're sleeping? Where the hell did that come from?_ He gently placed his hand on his brother's forehead to check for fever and found none, causing a sigh of relief. Dean mumbled in his sleep but didn't waken.

Sam moved to the bathroom, splashing some water on his face, and rubbing the sleep from his eyes with one of the cheap towels. He felt much better than he had and was ready to tackle whatever might come up. He decided some research was in order and got the laptop out, quietly placing it on the small table. Pushing the "On" button and waiting for it to power up, he went to make some more coffee. He knew no matter how Dean felt when he woke up, he'd want his coffee. He'd wait for his brother to wake before doing anything about food, however. Sam wasn't hungry, but he knew Dean would be and might want to get out for a while.

Sam sat down at the laptop and connected to the internet. The notepaper named Harrison, IL as the town they were in, so he started his search there. After an hour of research and note taking, he stood up to stretch and make another little pot of coffee. He hadn't realized he'd drunk it all. While the little pot worked, Sam walked to Dean's bed. His brother appeared to be rousing a little, so Sam decided to put his hand on his brother's forehead again — while he still could — to check his temperature.

Dean jerked at the touch and came up swatting his hands around until he realized where he was.

"Sorry, dude. I just wanted to check for a fever."

The older Winchester winced as he tried to lie back down. The sudden movement had pulled on his injured leg, which was letting him know how unhappy it was. "Don't scare me like that," Dean groaned.

"Sorry."

He went over to the first aid kit to retrieve the bottle of ibuprofen, shaking a couple into his hand. Grabbing a bottle of water, he took the offering to Dean's bed and carefully sat down where he'd been a few hours earlier. "Can you turn over to take these and drink some water?"

"Mmpft?" Dean said into the pillow.

"I'm taking that as a question. I said, 'can you turn over to take these pills and drink some water?' Did you have any water or anything while you were . . . wherever you were?"

Dean rolled a little to his left side. "No, nothing. I was kind of busy getting yard tools tossed at me." Taking the pills and the bottle of water, he drained it. "Thanks." A beat. "You know what I'd really like, though? Some coffee." He had smelled the freshly brewed coffee and couldn't wait to taste it.

Sam got up and poured a cup, bringing it back to sit on the nightstand while he helped his big brother get into a sitting position that wouldn't put too much pressure on the back of his leg. Being on the bed was perfect since Dean could slouch against the headboard and bend his leg enough to keep it off the bed. Nodding that he was fine, Dean accepted the cup and gently sipped the steaming nectar. He was looking forward to the ibuprofen taking effect, but the coffee tasted very good. He sighed happily as he leaned his head back against the headboard.

His eyes wandered to his little brother. "How long?"

"Six hours."

"How about you?"

"Five hours." Sam shrugged. "I decided to do some research to see if there was anything interesting in this town."

Dean raised his brows. "Find anything?"

"A little, but I want to hear what happened to you. I think we're both sufficiently awake."

Dean nodded. "I'll tell you about it, but how about running out for some cheeseburgers and fries first? They weren't exactly serving a buffet over there and I'm starving."

Sam got up and took the car keys from the table. "I'll be right back. You organize your thoughts while I'm gone, and we'll try to come up with a plan." He waved a hand as he headed out the door.

The exhausted hunter lay back against the headboard, sighing deeply. It was good to relax and to have his brother have his back again. Even with all the supernatural stuff they saw everyday, he'd had a hard time with what he'd been through the last twenty-four hours. He'd hunted alone plenty of times while Sam was at Stanford, but they'd been together again for a while now; he'd felt his little brother's absence on the other side. He closed his eyes, trying to relax. They were going to have to figure out how his little adventure had happened, then do something about it. He and Sam could handle themselves, but they needed to figure out if this event was related to this motel and/or room or if it was just some random event. They didn't want innocent people going through what he had. As he relaxed a little more, the thought that Sam might have some ideas from his research had him switching off his brain. He'd wait until Geek Boy came back so they could talk about this and whatever Sam had found out then. He was still very tired.

As Dean's breathing evened out, and his head slipped a little to the side in sleep, the lighting in the room began to change to the hue of the light from an oil lamp. The walls became covered in dark wallpaper. The sounds from the road outside the motel began to fade away.

Several minutes later, the sleek, black Impala rumbled into the parking lot of the motel. Sam switched off the ignition, gathered up the bags of greasy food and sodas that his brother preferred and hauled his lanky frame out of the driver's seat.

"Damn," he grumbled. He'd forgotten to get the room key out before picking up the bags. Setting the drinks on the ground, he reached into his back pocket for the key. Sliding it into the lock, he frowned as the red light came back on. Sticking the card in again, the green light hesitated, but finally came on. Mumbling his irritation with these modern key locks, Sam pushed the handle down, shoved the door open, and bent down to pick up the drinks.

www

Dean came awake lazily as he heard something at the door. As his eyes opened in anticipation of his brother coming in with food and drinks, he suddenly realized that he wasn't where he'd been when he fell asleep. He sat upright, wincing at the pinch he felt in his leg, and looked around in amazement. He was lying on the four-poster bed back in the other room.

Still shocked, he turned his head to the right as the door opened and saw Sam leaning down to pick up something from the ground. In desperation, Dean flew off the bed at his little brother, the two of them landing in a heap just outside the door, sodas flying.

"Dude!" Sam said when his breath came back. "This is getting old. What's up with you?"

Dean rolled off his brother quickly, gesturing toward the door. "Look."

The younger hunter followed his brother's gesture, his mouth dropping open in amazement just as the door slammed shut. He slowly turned to Dean. "What the hell?"

"Close your mouth, dude. You're gonna get something in there you don't want." Dean chuckled as he took a deep breath and let it go. "That's where I was."

Sam clamped his mouth shut. Glancing back at the door and once again at his brother, he could only blink.

This time, the older sibling laughed. _My geek boy brother is speechless. This is freakin' priceless!_ He slapped Sam on the shoulder, motioning with his right hand. "Let's get up and have some food."

Sam shook himself as he got up to assist his brother. "Dude, you're out here in your shorts." Sam was laughing as he took Dean's hand. At the expression on his brother's face, he laughed even harder.

Dean composed himself, smirked, and stood proudly. "Hey, if you've got it, flaunt it."

"Fine, jerk."

"Bitch."

"I can't believe you're thinking about food when we can't get back into our motel room."

"Oh. Right." Dean considered for a moment. "Help me to the car."

As they turned to head to the car, Sam glanced at the motel office, hesitating in surprise. There stood Kim looking out the window at them, her eyes wide open in shock, mouth in the shape of an O.

Dean followed his brother's gaze to see what had caused him to stop and let a slow smile light up his face. He turned to face the window fully and raised his hand in a friendly wave.

Embarrassed and appalled at his brother's boldness, Sam pulled Dean toward the car. "I don't believe you."

The half-naked hunter shrugged his shoulders at Kim and waved again, but allowed himself to be pulled toward his beloved Impala. Kim gave a hesitant wave in return and quickly turned away, but not before Dean noticed the increased color on her cheeks. He laughed happily.

Sam got his brother settled in the passenger seat, careful of his leg, then ran around and got in behind the wheel. "Where to?" He eyed Dean expectantly.

"Nowhere. We're going to eat in here. Go get the food." He gave Sam a little shove as he settled down with a contented smile on his face.

Sam stared at his brother in amazement for a moment. Shaking his head, he got out of the car, picked up what was left of the soft drinks and the bags of food, and got back in.

"Now, don't be making a mess. Just because we have to eat in the car is no reason to be spilling stuff all over her interior." Dean reached for one of the bags and started rummaging through it with enthusiasm.

"Uh, Dean…"

Dean looked up at Sam but continued stuffing French fries into his mouth.

"What are we going to do about getting back into our room? Sitting here stuffing our faces isn't going to get us back in there. What happened to my laptop? Where's all our stuff?" The youngest Winchester was obviously quite shaken up.

"Hey, shtarbing ban hew!" Dean swallowed. "Sorry, starving man here." He put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "We'll figure it out, I promise. I'm just too hungry to do it right this minute. Okay? Let's eat and then we'll get to work on the problem." He raised his eyebrows in anticipation of Sam's answer.

"Okay, but Dean… This is just so weird." Sam gestured in frustration at his inability to come up with something more eloquent.

The older man squeezed Sam's shoulder before letting go. "Story of our lives, Sam, story of our lives. Is there a cheeseburger with bacon in here? I think I smell bacon. Want a napkin?"

"Yeah, there is," Sam sighed as he took the offered item. "Pass me some fries, would you?" No point in pushing his brother now. They might as well get food off his mind before they got to work.

www

Gathering up the remnants of their lunch and stuffing all the trash into one bag, Sam sat back and turned toward his brother. "Well?"

Dean shrugged. "I think the first thing we should do is try the key again. There's got to be a way to enter our room." He put up his hand in response to Sam's open mouth. "Hear me out, okay?" His brother settled back and Dean nodded. "Okay. I put the key in the lock and went into another . . . _world? _You put the key in the lock and go into the real room. There has to be something to do with the key." The hunter raised his eyebrows and waited.

"Okay, I can buy that, but we need to figure out if there's a way to tell which we're going to find. I'm going to try the door and pay close attention to what happens. You stay here. There isn't much traffic, but you can't just stand out there in your underwear."

Dean smirked as he spread his arms out. "Nothing to be ashamed of here, Sammy!"

Sam snorted and got out of the car. Shutting the door behind him, he walked over to the door to their room, put the card in the slot, and pulled it out again. When the green light came on immediately, the young hunter pushed the handle down and began to open the door. Looking back at his brother, he could see him staring through the windshield at him with not a little concern — he might even have been holding his breath. Sam turned back to the door, pushing it open far enough to be able to see inside. It was their motel room. He dropped his head in relief and motioned for his brother to come on.

When Sam actually entered the room, he gave everything a quick once over. His laptop was on the table where it should be, and their other meager belongs were where they'd been left. He turned at the sound of his brother entering the room.

"I don't know. I put the key in the slot, pulled it out, the green light came on, I opened the door, and here we are." Sam held his arms out to encompass the room as he shook his head. "I don't get it."

"Me neither, but we will." Dean reached his hand over to grab his bed and collapsed onto it, putting all of his weight on his left side.

"How did you get over to the door, Dean?" Sam walked over to his brother, concerned.

The horizontal hunter grinned sheepishly. "I hopped."

Sam's eyes widened. "You hopped? What are you, a rabbit?"

"Don't get wise, little brother. I can still whip your ass."

"Whatever, dude. Let me see your leg. I want to make sure the bandages haven't slipped."

Dean dutifully rolled over onto his left side to let Sam see his injuries. After careful examination, Sam declared the wounds in good shape and patted his brother's foot. Rummaging in his brother's duffle, he came up with a pair of sweats, tossing them at the older man. "You'd better put these on and stop flashing people."

The older Winchester snorted but did as instructed and settled himself comfortably, putting his hands behind his head as he directed his gaze toward his little brother. "Okay. So let's talk about what you found out during your little research time."

Blinking, the younger sibling rubbed his eyes at the events of the last hour. He went to the table to sit in front of his laptop and his pad of notes, staring at them, marveling that they were exactly where he'd left them even though this wasn't the room he'd seen just a little while ago. _Man, our lives are weird. _

"Sam?"

Sam came out of his reverie. "Huh? Oh, yeah. The only thing I could find at this point was an old mansion that used to sit on this very spot. It was owned by a Mr. Ian Harrison. He was an Irish immigrant who had worked his way up in the world to where he could afford a mansion like this." Sam took the laptop over to Dean's bed and sat down next to his brother so they could both see the screen. It showed a beautiful three-story brick mansion. Sam knew that the third floor was often used for servants' quarters, making it quite an impressive building and testament to the man's wealth by having live-in servants.

Dean leaned over towards his brother to study the picture. "This looks like the kind of place that would have the interior that I saw, but what would be the connection?"

Sam shook his head. "I don't know. That's really as far as I got. I've seen mention of family but haven't gotten far enough to discover what the family consisted of. Oh, I did find out that it's his family for whom this town is named, so there's probably some connection that way."

Sam got up, returned the laptop to the table, and sat down heavily. After several moments, he cast a thoughtful eye on his older brother. "You know, this is coal mining country, so it might have something to do with mining and some dark event surrounding that industry."

Dean nodded and tiredly lay back on the pillows. "Not unusual. Why don't you do some more research while I lie here and think? We also need to get out and talk to the townspeople, but I'm no good for that just yet, so I'm better off thinking. You're better at the research, so you're better off doing that, okay?" Dean lifted his arms behind his head, smiling at Sam. Suddenly, he was hit in the face by a flying newspaper.

"Sure, Dean, but you can read the newspaper to see if there's anything interesting in there."

"Fine. I'm sure I'm well enough to read."

Smiling, Sam turned back to his laptop as Dean began to unfold the paper to go through it.

An hour later, Sam had a stack of papers with notes on them. His older brother was softly snoring with the newspaper over his face, having succumbed to fatigue again shortly after beginning his search through it. He hadn't found anything of interest, and the lack of results contributed to his drowsiness. Ultimately giving up and letting the paper fall to help shut out some of the light, the ticking of his brother's fingers on the laptop had a lulling effect.

Sam leaned back in his chair, stretching his long limbs and arching his back. He loved the research aspect of the hunt, but the events of the last twenty-four hours had him a little stressed. He glanced at his sleeping brother. Dean needed the sleep and Sam was going to let him get it. Sam looked back at the stack of papers he had accumulated and sighed. There was a lot of info here. It was amazing what one could find out about a property when one dug far enough back. When Dean awoke, he'd go over what he'd found with him.

He turned a thoughtful gaze onto the motel room door. So far, he'd only seen evidence of the supernatural when he came in from the outside. However, the last time, his brother was _in_ the room, experiencing the supernatural while inside, only able to get out when Sam came in from outside. Okay, so that meant that the problem was not just limited to the act of opening the door, it could happen with the door shut. His fingers drumming on the table, Sam frowned. Could they possibly be in the regular motel room while things were changing outside the door, changing into the hallway that Dean had described? He got up and walked quietly to the door, trying very hard not to waken his brother, and taking hold of the handle. Positioning himself to better get a look at what was outside, the young hunter carefully pushed down on the handle and pulled it slowly inward.

Giving his complete concentration and hunters' instincts to the task at hand, he was unaware of movement behind him. Suddenly he jumped, letting out a cry of surprise when something hit him on the back of the head with enough force to shove his forehead into the edge of the door. Turning around so fast he almost knocked himself over while instinctively dropping into a defensive stance, he was shocked to see his older brother rolling back and forth on the bed with both hands over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

Sam straightened up to look around in confusion. One of the motel pillows was lying on the floor at his feet. He picked it up and threw it back at his brother in disgust. "Damn it, Dean! You almost gave me a heart attack. What the hell's wrong with you?"

Dean gave up trying to stifle his laughter, caught the pillow before it hit him and laughed out loud before gleefully tossing it back in Sam's general direction. Fortunately for Sam, the older man was too weak with laughter for the pillow to find its mark this time.

"Aw, come on, Samantha. Lighten up a little, huh?"

Sam glared at his big brother in response.

Settling down a little, Dean shrugged his shoulders. "Okay, fine, Princess. What were you doing, anyway?"

Sam huffed but shared the thought process that had taken him to the door.

Dean nodded his head in agreement. "What did you see?"

Sam rubbed his forehead. "The edge of the door as my head hit it. I'm going to have a bruise."

"Oh. Sorry. Well, why don't you look again?"

"You look. I'm not setting myself up for another pillow in the back of the head."

Dean pouted, "Sammy, I'm hurt. I don't think I can make it to the door."

"Yeah, right." Sam sat with his arms crossed over his chest, continuing to glare at his immature brother.

Dean Winchester continued to pout, even batting his eyelashes at his little brother. He didn't have Sam's puppy eyes, but he could usually make him do something Dean himself didn't want to do. This time he was doing it just for fun. Feeling a little more rested, he was trying to lift the general mood.

Sam couldn't help it. Laughing as he got up, he went to the door, making a face at his brother's satisfied grin and keeping a wary eye on him. Dean rolled over to the edge of the bed, very interested in the results of the expedition. Sam carefully opened the door and looked. Sighing, he opened it all the way so that Dean could see the parking lot with the Impala in front of their room.

"Well, that wasn't very helpful." Sam closed the door and sat down on the edge of Dean's bed. "How's your leg? Do you need some more pain relievers?"

Dean sat up and tried flexing his right leg. "It's not bad. I don't need anything for pain right now." He looked up at his little brother, feeling a little guilty. "Sorry about the pillow."

Sam slapped his brother on the arm and grinned. "It's okay. Just part of your charm, I guess."

The older man beamed. He knew his baby brother couldn't stay mad at him but also knew that he'd have to be careful for a while in case of reprisals.

"So did you find anything during your research?"

"I did, actually." Sam got up and retrieved his notes from the table. "I found the town's Historical Society's website, and like I mentioned before, the mansion used to sit on this site and was owned by the Harrison family." Looking at his notes, Sam continued, "It was built in 1842, and due to investments and hard work, Mr. Harrison continued to build his fortune, becoming well respected and liked by the community. He became a mine owner, and for the time, provided excellent working conditions for his men. It's a dangerous business, and he felt that losing good men when it could be avoided was not profitable. He also seemed to genuinely care for his employees.

"Let's see: he had a wife, Abigail; two children, a boy and a girl, Todd and Martha. As was the custom of the time, Todd went to work for his father in the business, becoming an astute business man in his own right, making the family fortune grow as his father had. Martha married well and all was right with the world, it seemed."

"Nothing lasts forever, though, right?"

Sam nodded, shuffling his papers, "Right. Todd's grandson, a Warren Harrison, developed a gambling habit and love for the ladies." Sam looked pointedly at his brother at the last part of that statement.

Dean smirked and shrugged. "The guy wasn't all bad."

Sam snorted and continued, "Anyway, he went through the family fortune, losing everything except the family mansion. His wife left him, taking their only son, seventeen-year-old Martin, with her. Warren died a broken and lonely man when Martin was thirty. Being the only heir, Martin came 'home' to live in the house and rebuild the family fortune. But Martin had none of the family business sense, so it didn't go as planned. He ended up turning the mansion into a boarding house of sorts and died penniless." Sam put the papers down. "That's as far as I got when I decided to take a break."

"Good job, Geek Boy," he said as he slapped his brother's knee.

"Thanks. I know there's more to the story than that, but I'll get back to it in a minute."

"I'm going to take a shower while you do." He slapped Sam's hand away as his brother tried to help him up. "I can do it."

"Fine." Sam backed up and waited while his stubborn brother tried to get himself off the bed.

"Fine." Dean turned, scooted to the edge of the bed, and grabbed the night table between the beds. Taking a breath, he attempted to raise himself. It took more effort than he'd anticipated, but he was determined to not need to be taken care of any longer. In his eyes, it made him weak, and he was definitely _not_ weak. He was the strong older brother. He finally made it to a completely vertical position and turned to his brother with a smile on his face.

Sam backed up to allow his brother to head out on his own. Dean took a tentative step with his right foot, hissing as his weight brought a sharp but manageable pain. Left foot forward, easy; right foot forward, slowly. In this manner the injured hunter got past his brother and the end of the bed. As he got closer to the bathroom, it became a little easier and his gait evened out somewhat. Crossing the threshold and turning to close the door, he smiled and winked at Sam.

Sam chuckled and turned back to his laptop to continue his information gathering, and by the time Dean came out of the bathroom, was completely engrossed.

**WWW**

Please let me know what you think! :-)


	3. Chapter 3

I still don't own them, but I do like to get them to come out and play. :-)

**WWW**

Dean came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist, hair still slightly dripping, and went straight to his duffle to rummage for clean clothes. Finally finding enough of an approximation of 'clean', he got dressed and toweled his hair dry. "Dude, we have to do some laundry."

"Uh, yeah, I know" was Sam's distracted answer. He went back to his screen and wrote furiously on his paper.

The elder hunter came to stand behind his brother, amazed at how much better he felt after the shower. "What'd you find?"

Sam jumped. "Oh. Uh, Martin, it seems, had a series of single ladies staying at his boarding house. He had made a deal with the town council that the school teacher could stay at his establishment for half of what other renters were charged — civic duty and all that."

"School _teacher_? Singular?" Dean moved to sit down in the chair opposite his brother, wincing slightly as his right thigh came in contact with the hard chair.

"Yep. At the turn of the last century and for many years after, towns of the size that this one was at the time still had one-room schoolhouses; therefore, one teacher."

"Huh."

Sam was seriously grateful that the one room schoolhouse was no longer a common practice. He understood the need for it at the time, but thinking about his classes and the questions he had asked, it would have been very difficult to get the kind of education he'd gotten under those conditions.

"As I was looking further into the history, it seemed that some of these school teachers went missing and were never found. It got to the point that it was no longer possible to lure teachers here. There was no school at all for a number of years until somehow a young woman was finally convinced to come here straight out of college. A Miss Lora Gregory arrived, and with the enthusiasm of a new teacher, got to work. Martin offered the same deal as before, and Miss Gregory took up residence in the mansion. This young lady did _not_ disappear; Martin did."

The older sibling raised his eyebrows in surprise. Sam chuckled at Dean's reaction, but he loved it when his brother was as interested as he was in the information that they gathered. Dean didn't like the research, but he would listen to his brother's synopsis of what he'd found, process the information given, and almost always be able to sift through it all to get right to the heart of the matter.

Smiling and wagging his own eyebrows, Sam continued, "Yep. Miss Gregory and the rest of the residents were all questioned; all denied any knowledge of what happened. It was a repeat of what had happened in the previous disappearances, but with Martin as the victim instead of a young woman. Martin's body was also never found. The mansion became a building with enough of a stigma that none of the residents moved back in. Miss Gregory resigned at the end of the school year and left town. It sat empty for ten years until a developer bought it in the early fifties, razed it, and put this motel here."

Dean blew a breath out and sat back, raising his hands to rest on the back of his head and stared at the ceiling. Sam waited. He knew how smart his brother really was, no matter what face Dean presented to the world, and had enjoyed watching him think and process information from a very young age. Few people were privy to this side of his brother. His big brother would almost always come up with a question that would lead them to solve the puzzle.

The older hunter finally put his hands down, leaning forward again to capture his little brother's eyes. "Did the teachers who vanished all stay in the same room?"

Sam blinked. "Huh." He began moving around the website, finally looking up at his big brother, grinning. Dean grinned in return. No words were needed. All the missing women occupied the same room while the women that had not disappeared had stayed in other rooms. The boarding house had very long-term residents, for the most part, and the room would most likely be the one available at the time.

"The room on 'the other side'!" the brothers said in unison.

"Okay. So now we have the connection, but what's the problem in the basement? Why did the lawn tools go after you?"

"Maybe the teachers who disappeared are buried down there and are angry, or maybe it's the spirit of the missing owner? Hey, they just might be possessed tools that want to plant a garden or something." Dean shrugged. "I have to go back over there somehow to figure out what's going on and take care of it."

"Oh, no you don't. You're not going back to that place alone! I'm going along to watch your back so that there are no further close encounters of the pitchfork kind."

"Sam…"

"I'm serious. You are so not going without me."

"Listen to me. I went alone the first time and was only able to get out when you opened the door and 'here'—" He waved his hand to indicate their current surroundings. "— was here. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't done that. I might have been stuck on the other side forever. What if we're both over there and there's no one to open this door from here? I need you here, Sammy, to make sure I can get back." Dean waited to see if his brother understood and agreed with the assessment.

Sam had been glaring at Dean while he was speaking, but after a few moments he lowered his eyes, his expression one of grudging agreement. "Okay, but we have to work on this some more before you go back. You're going to take the weapons bag and whatever else we can think of." The younger brother was not happy about this at all and refused to let Dean just run off and do something stupid.

Dean smiled. "Believe me, little brother, I'm not anxious to go back, but we have to take care of this problem, find out what's there, and deal with it."

"I know, but I just don't want to take a chance on losing you like that."

This was getting uncomfortably emo, but Sam's fear was pushing on Dean's 'big brother' button. He leaned forward. "Look, we'll figure this out, come up with a real plan with all the bases covered, and there'll be no danger of me getting caught over there. Okay?"

Sam nodded. "Okay, what are we going to do to get you there?"

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A couple of hours later and with a plan in place, the brothers were cleaned up and ready to go. By now, it was dark outside and they felt there was a pretty good chance they could connect with the other room. Taking the weapons bag outside with them, they made sure there was nothing they'd forgotten.

Dean looked at his baby brother. "I guess we just keep trying this until we get the other room, huh?"

Sam shrugged but indicated he had no other suggestions, so the older hunter put his key card in the slot. The green light came on immediately and he opened the door . . . motel room. Letting the door shut on its own, he tried again with the same result. This was repeated the next ten times and Dean, never the most patient person, was getting ticked off.

From their right came a familiar voice. "You boys having trouble with your room key? Do you need me to make you another one?" Rusty asked. Smiling broadly at the brothers, he looked specifically at Sam. "I see you found your brother okay. I was kind of worried last night."

"Yeah, me, too. He'd just gone for a long walk to work out the kinks from the road, you know? Thought I was down for the count, so he didn't worry about a note. Thanks for your help, Rusty. I'm sorry, I should have come back to the office to let you know he was okay."

The motel clerk waved a dismissive hand. "Don't worry about it. Just glad to see you in one piece, Mr. Wilbur. About the key…?"

Dean spoke up, "Nah, the key's fine. Thanks, dude. We're just goofing around out here. Sorry if we disturbed you."

"Not a problem at all. You know where I am if you need anything." The older man waved and headed back to the office.

Sam, who had been sitting on the hood of the Impala, saw his brother's frustration and came forward. "Let me try that for a while. You're going to blow a gasket before you get over there and won't be any good to yourself. You've got to be sharp and _not_ angry."

Dean frowned, shaking Sam's hand off. "I'm not going to blow a gasket. I'm cool, okay?" Belying his own words, he slammed his fist into the door jamb in frustration when the next two tries produced the same result.

"Uh huh. Go sit down, I've got this." Sam gave his brother a little shove, and Dean allowed himself to be moved out of the way. He knew Sam was right, but he didn't want to be defeated by a door with a plastic key.

Sam put his key card in the lock and the green light blinked on immediately. Opening the door to find the motel room, he looked at his brother and shrugged. When the door closed again, the process was repeated several times; each time produced the same results. Dean sighed as he leaned back on his car to zone out, letting Sam deal with the frustration. _He's better at that, anyway._

The older man was just beginning to relax when his brother's cry of success brought him bolt upright. "I've got it! I know what we have to look for when we open the door!"

Dean came over to stand next to his brother, raising his eyebrows at Sam's excitement. Keeping his foot from letting the door close again, Sam pointed to the door lock. "When we put the key card into the slot and pull it out, the green light comes on and we open the door, right?" Dean nodded as he shifted on his feet. "Usually, the light comes right on and we go into the room. This last time, when I pulled the card out, the light hesitated a second before coming on, and when I opened the door, I found this." Sam pushed the door the rest of the way open showing the room 'on the other side' there to welcome them.

His brother smiled and slapped him on the chest with the back of his hand, "I knew you could do it, College Boy. At least now we'll have some warning when we're trying to just get into the room."

Sam smiled, basking in his older brother's praise. He turned serious, though, as Dean began to walk into the room. Putting his hand up to stop him from stepping across the threshold, he said, "Are you really sure about this? I'd still rather go with you."

"Sam, we've been through this. I need you on this side."

The younger man nodded, letting his hand drop to his side as his brother walked past him.

Dean turned back toward the room and gave his brother a little salute. "Now close the door, so I can get to work, okay?"

Sam nodded and let the door close. Waiting a second to see if Dean would reappear, he put his keycard in the slot, the light came on immediately, and Sam opened the door into their motel room. Entering, he sighed and sat down at the table to wait. He hated waiting and wished he was over there to watch his brother's back; he didn't like Dean going off on this job without him.

The brothers had compared the time that had passed on both 'sides', discovering the time on the normal side went faster than the time on the other side. Sam was glad of that, at least, as he debated how long to wait for Dean before going after him. No matter what they had agreed, he was _not_ going to leave his brother over there by himself for more than a couple of hours on this side.

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Dean allowed the door to close, waiting a few seconds before cautiously opening it again. The door opened onto the dim hallway. Adjusting the weapons bag on his shoulder, he went into the hall and made his way to the door at the end, once again feeling the oppressiveness he'd felt earlier. Turning the flashlight on, he opened the door and shined it down the stairs. To his amazement, there was no indication that he had been there before. He expected to see tools lying all over the place or stuck in the walls where they had landed as they were launched in his direction, but there was nothing. Wincing when his right leg complained about having to go down the stairs, he slowly descended, keeping the flashlight beam in constant motion to avoid surprises.

As he reached the bottom, he shone the light in the corner onto the stack of tools that had been there. They were back in their original positions. _Huh. Weird._ Moving the light around the rest of the basement, he found that everything was back in its original place except his shotgun; that was right where he'd dropped it on his last visit. _Ooookay._

Once Dean again made sure there was no action from the tool corner, he moved to the right of the stairs and prepared to open the old padlock on the heavy wooden door. Putting the weapons bag on the floor and propping the flashlight under his chin, he retrieved his lock pick kit from his jacket pocket. As he began to work on the padlock, he could hear some noises from the corner where the tools were stacked. Feeling somewhat pressured now, and angry at the lock — which seemed to be far more rusted than he originally thought — the hunter was finding it more difficult than he imagined to get it open. The more he struggled with the lock, the more noise came from the tool corner. Suddenly, a trowel hit the heavy wooden door just as it had done during his previous visit.

"Shitshitshitshitshit!" Dean continued to struggle with the lock, but the tools were now very active so he decided to live to pick locks another day. Grabbing the weapons bag and the rest of his paraphernalia, the nervous hunter headed toward the stairs. The pitchfork came sailing across the room, but Dean was prepared this time; he stepped back and the fork hit the wall. Breathing a sigh of relief and yanking the fork out of the wall to get past it, he ran up the stairs as fast as his wounded leg would allow. When he reached the top of the stairs, he grabbed the door with his free hand and pulled it shut behind him.

Backing away from the door a couple of steps, he listened as the sounds of garden tools hitting the stair wall and the door came to him. Staring in disbelief, Dean began moving further down the hallway as the sound changed to resemble the sound of someone pounding on the door with a heavy fist. He stopped his backward movement and stood facing the door, waiting for the sound to continue. There was one more loud bang on the door which made him jump back. Waiting just a few seconds for any further activity, Dean slowly turned and headed back down the hall. Tired and in pain, he just wanted to get back to Sam. This _was_ going to be a two-man job. They had figured out how to get to this side; now they had to figure out how to get them both back to the real world from this side.

Dean made it back to the wooden door of 'his room', and with a glance back down the hall, pushed the door open and went in. He ran his fingers through his short spikes as he blew out a breath and glanced around the room. His leg was complaining loudly, so he hobbled to the bed to rest. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to lie down while he waited for Sam to open the door to let him out. Managing to climb the footstool, he flopped in the middle of the bed, lying there for a few minutes, staring at the canopy and willing his injured leg to shut up. When he began to get the pain under control, Dean's eyes slowly closed and his breathing evened out as he relaxed into sleep.

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Sam was worried. It hadn't been all that long, but he was still upset that his stubborn brother had gone alone. He knew his sibling would be angry, but he wasn't going to wait and let him get hurt again. The question was whether he was going to go outside to try the door lock again or see if he could find another way to join Dean. Sitting there on the side of the older hunter's bed, Sam began chewing on his thumbnail as he tried to come up with a plan.

Sitting with his head in his hands and willing his brain to come up with some sort of plan, he shut his eyes and began gently rocking back and forth as his mind strained for some ideas. The young hunter didn't see the lighting in the room change from motel room light to subdued oil lamp light, didn't feel the change of the cheap hotel bedspread into the deep, luxurious spread of the other room. The change was nearly complete when he realized that something was different because his feet were no longer resting on the floor, and he felt like someone was in the room with him.

The young hunter opened his eyes and realized, with a shock, that he was in the 'other room', but he hadn't done anything. He looked down at his feet, saw that they were just a couple of inches off the floor, and there was a little step to his right. Suddenly, a hand slapped him on the back. He jerked around and tried to come to a defensive pose, but in the process lost his balance with no foot support and fell off the bed. The surprised hunter landed hard on the floor with a little yelp as pain shot up his right elbow into his shoulder. He lay on the floor for a second, waiting for something to come off the bed after him, knowing he wouldn't be able to defend himself well with his right arm struggling to recover. Instead of a monster coming after him, he heard chuckling. _Chuckling? _Then Dean's grinning face appeared over the edge of the bed.

"Whatcha doin' down there, little brother?" Dean asked, barely able to contain his mirth.

Sam looked around in confusion as his brother gave up trying to hold in his laughter and rolled back on the bed to let it go.

Finally realizing what had happened, Sam sent a glare toward the sound of Dean's laughter and struggled to get off the floor. The hard smack his elbow had taken rendered the right arm still useless, however.

"Dean? Dean!"

"What, Sammy?" Dean barely managed to get out as he struggled to bring himself under control.

"A little help, please?"

The older man immediately stopped laughing and crawled back to the end of the bed to see what the problem was.

"You hurt, Sam?"

"Just smacked my elbow on the floor, and my right arm is useless. Give me a hand, will ya?"

Dean reached over the edge of the bed to grab Sam's offered left hand to help him stand up. Sam nodded his thanks and the older sibling, after making sure he saw no other injuries on his brother, began to chuckle again.

Aggravated and scowling, Sam punched Dean in his arm but began laughing himself. He couldn't help it. Dean's laughter had always been contagious, and Sam was really relieved to see his brother in one piece again. The younger hunter lay on the bed next to Dean as they let themselves relax and settle down.

After a few moments, Dean returned the earlier punch his brother had delivered. "Why did you come after me? You were supposed to stay in the motel, wait for a couple of hours to pass, and then get the door open. I'm sure not enough time has passed, and here you were sitting on my bed, _not_ holding the door open for me to get out."

Sam put his tingling right hand up as he rose up on his left elbow to get a better look at his angry sibling. "I didn't come after you, I promise. I wanted to, but I didn't. If I had, I would have figured a way for us to be able to get out easily. I was worried about you and was sitting on your bed with my head in my hands when I suddenly realized I wasn't in Kansas anymore." A beat and the younger man scowled at his brother. "How did you know I was here, and why did you slap me?"

Dean's expression changed from a frown to a grin as he put his hands behind his head. "I always know when you're around, Sammy. I'd fallen asleep, but the shift in the level of the bed woke me up, and there you were. You're kind of hard to miss, you know?"

The younger hunter chuckled, shaking his head and glancing back at his brother. "Seriously, dude, what happened here?"

The older brother took a deep breath. "It's going to take both of us, Sam. I went down there and it all started again almost immediately. There really was nothing I could do." Dean told his younger brother what had happened in detail. "It was pretty scary, dude. I got my shotgun, though." Dean grinned.

Sam nodded as his big brother finished telling his story. "Okay. So we need a new plan. It's possible this bed is a conduit back to our world, too," he said, patting the spread and swinging his long legs to the side so he could sit up. His brother sat up, too, watching Sam with interest.

The youngest Winchester continued, "When you were gone the first time, I came into the room and found the weapons bag on your bed."

Dean's eyes lit up. "I'd put it here —" He patted the spread. "— to go through it!"

Sam nodded. "I was sitting on your bed when I ended up here."

"Okay, we can use this." Dean got up and began limping around the room. He couldn't stand to just sit, wanting to keep his leg muscles from stiffening too much, too. It hurt a lot with the initial steps but began to ease as he continued.

"We can't get stuck over here." Sam wrinkled his forehead. He knew he didn't have to tell his brother that, but he had to say it out loud anyway.

Dean came to a stop and nodded. "I know, Sammy. We won't, I promise."

Sam relaxed a bit. Even though he was a very capable hunter with complete faith in his own abilities, it always made him feel better to hear his big brother promise. He knew Dean couldn't really pull off a miracle, but sometimes it seemed that was exactly what he did. It had been a long time since the young man thought of his big brother in terms of hero worship, but together they could handle anything.

The shorter hunter came back to the bed and put his hand on Sam's shoulder. "We have to figure out what activates the change here and on the other side; does there have to be someone or something on both beds, that kind of thing."

Sam nodded. "We'll have to experiment, I guess. Put something on the bed and wait to see if anything happens." He got up to join his brother in pacing while he tried to think the problem through. "So far we have the light hesitation in the key lock and the bed as ways to 'cross over', for lack of a better term. When I found the weapons bag on the bed in the motel room, there was nothing else on that bed."

"Okay." Dean nodded. "So both beds don't have to be involved." He walked over to one of the chairs and sat down; his leg was telling him it'd had enough exercise for probably a whole day. He winced as the injured area came into contact with the seat. _Sheesh! You'd think I'd remember that._

"You okay? Why don't you let me look at your leg and check the bandages?"

"I'm fine, Sam." Dean figured a little white lie would be okay at this point; he didn't want Sam in mother hen mode.

"You'll tell me if you need anything, right?"

"Of course!" Came the second white lie as Dean grinned.

"Uh huh. You will, of course, forgive me if I don't bet my retirement on that?"

"What retirement?"

"Good point." Sam sat in the other chair and leaned forward. "Seriously, dude, we need to be at our best for this, and I'd prefer your leg not give out at a crucial moment."

"Fine. I'll let you know."

This time, Sam relaxed. He could tell his brother meant what he said. "Okay. What do you think we should do first? I'd really like to get back to my laptop and do some more research."

"Separation anxiety?"

Sam snorted and gave his brother a one-fingered salute, causing the older hunter to grin.

"How about we both lie down on this bed and wait a while? We both need to go home anyway, and we know one object lying there can do it or one on both beds."

"That's a good idea. No kicking, though, and you stay on your own side of the bed."

Sam frowned, giving his pain in the ass older brother a shove as they headed back to the bed. Dean used the little step stool to get on the bed while Sam hopped up onto it. Settling down with the weapons bag between them, they waited.

"How long do you think it will take?"

"I don't know. How long were you on the bed before I joined you?"

"No idea. I dosed off."

Sam shrugged. "Okay, I guess we have to lie here and wait."

Dean smiled. "Okay, Samantha, come on over here and let's cuddle." Dean patted the bed as he moved over to the side.

Sam scowled at his brother. "You keep yourself on your own side. There's a reason why I always wanted my own bed." Sam smiled as he settled down; it wasn't true and Dean knew it. They'd shared a bed out of need until Dean was in his teen years and their father had left them in motels while he hunted. Sam had always wanted to stay and go to school whenever possible, and since they could only afford a room with two beds, Dean slept in their father's bed when he wasn't there. Neither boy had really minded, but it made for some fun banter over the years.

"Aw, Sammy, come here," Dean offered in his most sultry voice.

"Buzz off." Sam lay on his side facing away from his brother, hoping to stop the whole thing before it really got started. Dean never seemed to know when to quit.

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

Both brothers settled down with smiles on their faces.

As time passed with each man lost in his own thoughts, their breathing evened out and they dozed off. Neither brother saw the light in the room change to what came in around the cheap drapes or felt the bed change back into a regular motel bed. As the transformation became complete, they continued to sleep, worn out from the events of the day.

Sam was the first to awaken and had been for years. It came from never wanting to be late for school while growing up and needing to get an early start every day at college. It was just part of his make up. He opened his eyes and glanced around the room, unable to see much due to the darkness. Turning his head to the right to look at the clock that should be on the nightstand there, he was surprised to see there was no clock and no nightstand. He could see the outline of the door from the light in the parking lot and frowned. _'What am I doing in Dean's bed?"_

Jerking up into a sitting position, he turned to the left where the nightstand and clock were. _It's 3:00 a.m. Where's Dean?_ His mind suddenly returned to the night they'd arrived when Sam couldn't find his brother. He started to panic but finally noticed he wasn't alone on the bed. He blew out his relief when he realized that his brother was right there with him, the weapons bag between them. Sam rubbed his eyes, sending his hands up through his hair. As he began to remember what had actually happened, he sighed and got up to get into his own bed. Stopping short, he turned and stared at his sleeping brother. He hesitated only a second before heading back to the older man's bed and poking his brother's arm. "Dean. Come on, man. Get up and get in the other bed. It might not be the traveling variety. Hey! Let's go." He continued to poke and prod the older hunter, determined not to take a chance on his brother going back to the 'other side' without him.

The older man grouched and grumbled as he woke up enough to get himself to the other bed, fall onto it, and settle down immediately, leaving Sam to get the weapons bag. The younger man dropped the heavy bag onto the foot of the bed between them and got himself back into bed, scooting around until he found a comfortable sleeping position. Soon there was no sound except the soft snores of the young hunters.

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**Please R&R Thanks!  
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	4. Chapter 4

**This is sort of a bridge chapter, I think. Information gathering ahead! Hang in there. :)**

**I own nothing. *Sigh***

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Sam opened his eyes to the light coming in around the cheap drapes on the window. As he lay there enjoying the time between awake and asleep, the sound of running water in the bathroom filtered into his brain. He glanced at the clock, which read 7:30 a.m. Dean wasn't lying next to him, so Sam surmised it was him in the shower. The young hunter flopped onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

He lay there pondering the events of the previous day. _What're we going to do? How can we beat this thing together and not end up stuck on the other side? We have to figure out a way to stay together, get rid of whatever's down in that basement, and get back to this side with both of us in one piece!_

As he lay there, lost in thought, he was suddenly jerked back to the moment as a wet bath towel landed on his face. Sitting up, he scowled and threw it back at his brother, who was standing in his boxer briefs; smiling. Dean easily caught the towel and laughed. Sam responded with a small smile, too.

"So, where were you?"

"I was thinking about our situation, dude, where do you think?"

Dean shrugged, "Come up with anything useful?"

Sam shook his head as he got up and headed for the shower. "I need to do some more research before we allow ourselves to go back there. I'll take the laptop to breakfast and maybe we can hit the Historical Society when we're done eating. Okay?"

Dean shrugged with his mouth as he pulled a mostly clean t-shirt over his head. "Sure, we definitely need more info."

Sam nodded and shut the bathroom door behind him.

Forty-five minutes later they were at the typical road-side diner, this one shaped kind of like a shiny bus; Sam had ordered pancakes and Dean had ordered the breakfast skillet with coffee for both.

"You boys are in luck. We've got a fresh pot brewing right now."

The waitress' statement was rewarded with one of Dean's most charming smiles. "Thank you, sweetheart," he said sincerely.

The matronly waitress blushed as she turned to get the coffee and put in the orders.

Dean turned to Sam, who had opened the laptop and was typing in concentration. _Geek Boy busy _—_ no fun there,_' he thought to himself as he began to peruse the diner. Some truckers sat at the counter eating and enjoying their coffee — _nothing there_. A young family with a four-year old-ish towhead and an infant were sitting at one of the tables on the other side of the diner. Dean's eyes rested on them for a moment as the family laughed and enjoyed their meal. The mother's laugh was like music — the father had a deep, booming laugh. The laughing little boy looked at his father with big, adoring eyes. The hunter continued to watch them with a sad smile as they ate their meals, surprised when the waitress showed up with his and Sam's plates of food. He startled and realized that she must have been there once before as his coffee cup was sitting right in front of him, untouched.

Sam glanced up at Dean as he put the laptop to the side, preparing to eat. He noticed the untouched coffee in front of his brother and that he wasn't really eating, but pushing the food around on his plate while looking elsewhere.

"What's up?"

Dean startled again. "Huh?"

The younger hunter pointed with his fork full of pancake before putting it into his mouth. "You haven't touched your coffee and you're just playing with your food, man."

The older man looked at his meal. "Oh, I don't know. Just daydreaming, I guess."

"Anything bothering you?"

"No, everything's fine." Dean smiled and dug into his skillet meal. He glanced back wistfully at the family across the diner then concentrated on his breakfast. "Find anything more?" He nodded toward the laptop.

"Nope. Nothing. We're definitely going to need to go to the Historical Society to see what we can find out there. Sorry, dude."

Dean shrugged, "I don't mind. I'm kind of in the mood for Small Town America today. Is it far? Shall we walk or take the car?"

Sam shook his head. "I saw a map of the town on its website — it's not far."

"Cool. It's a nice day so we'll take advantage of it." Dean continued digging into his skillet and the rest of the meal was spent in comfortable conversation.

Once they had finished their breakfast, along with several cups of coffee, Dean threw some bills on the table, blowing a kiss to the blushing waitress as they left. The color on her cheeks made him smile.

Sam gaped. "Don't you think she's a little old for you?"

"I didn't ask her out on a date, Sammy. All I did was make her smile and blush a little. It doesn't hurt to get friendly with the natives. We might need her sometime."

"Oooookaaaay. I can't argue with that logic, but it's been a long time since I've seen you like this." Sam was smiling broadly at his brother, caught up in Dean's mood, thrilled that his big brother was enjoying the outing.

"I don't know why, Sammy, but I feel really good today." His face took on a more serious expression as he thought and glanced at Sam. "Maybe I'm just glad to have gotten out of that basement alive — twice."

Sam became serious too as he laid his hand on Dean's shoulder. "I second all of that, big brother."

Dean nodded. "Enough. Let's get to this Historical Society and see what we can find out." The smile came back onto his handsome face as he started off towards the end of the block at a good pace. His little brother hurried after him, catching up in no time.

They turned at the corner and made it to the Historical Society building very quickly. It was hard to miss. There was an American flag on a pole in front of the building; below the American flag was a flag with the town crest on it. The crest was a mining motif with the tools of the trade arranged around a man in a hard hat with a miner's light on top. It clearly depicted what had made the town of Harrison what it had been. The brothers looked at the flag for a moment, at each other, and went inside. They were greeted by a little old lady who looked like she might have been one of the first residents of the town.

"Good morning, gentlemen. I'm Gladys Brimby," she said cheerily, offering her hand to each brother in turn.

"Dean."

"Sam."

"So, what brings such fine young men to our little haven of history this morning?"

"We were hoping to get some information, ma'am," Sam supplied.

Dean turned on a blinding smile and added, "Uh, yeah. We're staying at the Seashell Motel and understand there's some history there — about the land it's built on or the previous building or…" He let his sentence trail off.

Gladys blinked.

Sam wandered off to look at some of the books as Dean continued, "My brother," he indicated Sam, "looked up some stuff on the internet — on your website and it was very interesting. We were just hoping to get a little more information here, if possible?" He looked at Gladys hopefully, glancing at Sam, who offered Gladys his dimples.

Dean smiled, turning back to Gladys to see if the dimples had done their job. _Score!_ Gladys was nodding, heading over to Sam and the books.

"Of course." she smiled, running her fingers over the shelf of books until she found the volume that she was searching. "Here we are." She pulled out the rather large book, placing it on the table so the brothers could look at it. "Why don't we sit down and perhaps I can answer any questions you may have? Would you like some tea? I was just brewing some when you came in."

The brothers looked at each other, Sam finally answering for both of them, "Yes, ma'am. We'd love some tea."

"Wonderful. Now, you boys make yourselves comfortable and I'll be right back," Gladys said happily as she turned to go to the back room.

Sam watched her go and turned to Dean, who apparently wasn't happy with his little brother. The glare on his face was a sure sign. Nothing got past the younger hunter.

"What?" Sam asked defensively.

"Tea?" Dean's eyebrows were nearly in his hairline.

"Dude, you've had tea before. Just drink it. It'll make her happy and she might tell us everything we need to know."

Dean grumbled under his breath as they sat down, but knew Sam was right. Sam knew how to get information out of people and the little old ladies always loved him. He would drink the tea, but he refused to be happy about it.

As they began looking through the book Gladys had given them, they were somewhat disappointed to find that there wasn't much in there that they hadn't seen on the website. What was new wasn't very helpful to their quest.

"We need to find more info. This is old news." Dean tapped the book.

"We'll have to ask questions, hope Gladys has some answers, and we don't have to go asking around town."

Gladys returned from the kitchen carrying a tray holding the teapot with all the essentials for a tea party. Dean, joining his brother in being polite to the lady, jumped up to take it from her and help her to her seat. "Smells wonderful, Gladys. Perfect for a beautiful day like today." he smiled his most charming smile. "Oh. Cookies, too?" He was suddenly very interested in the items on the tray.

Gladys smiled as she began fussing with the tea and cookies, "They're homemade. These are chocolate chip. The Historical Society has many wonderful cooks so we like to keep fresh baked goods on hand for visitors. You know, Harrison is a small town and doesn't get a great many people through here, but there are some from time to time. If we were closer to the interstate, it might be different for us, though."

The brothers gave her their complete attention, nodding and looking impressed at the appropriate moments.

"Sugar and cream?" Gladys asked.

Sam smiled and held up his cup, while Dean smiled and shook his head. "Thank you, ma'am," they said in unison. The Winchester smiles were getting a workout this morning.

"Such polite young men!" Gladys beamed at the brothers as she handed them their cups and offered cookies.

Sam took two cookies and Dean took six. The older man jumped slightly and scowled at his brother who had kicked him under the table. Dean cocked his eyebrows in a question and Sam tried to frown subtly as he indicated the cookies. Dean shrugged as he popped one into his mouth, sighing in contentment — they were wonderful.

Finished pouring her own tea, Gladys looked up at the polite, handsome young men sitting at the table with her. "Sorry I took so long in the kitchen. Did you find anything interesting, boys?"

Dean started to speak, but Sam jumped in instead, having noticed that his brother's mouth was completely full of cookies. Sam didn't want to be sprayed when his brother began to speak.

"This is a wonderful book, Gladys, and it has a lot of information in it. Unfortunately, we found most of the same information on the Society website. We were hoping to get some more _personal_ information." Sam brought the dimples out again. "The kind of information that probably wouldn't be on the web site."

Picking up the book to flip the pages, he handed it to Gladys when he found the one he was looking for. "Mr. Ian Harrison had built a mansion on the site of the motel, but it fell into ruin and was torn down in the 50's. One of Mr. Harrison's descendants had been the owner, but had disappeared and the mansion sat empty for some time before the sale and destruction."

Gladys nodded enthusiastically as Sam was talking. Dean was amused; the dimples were working like a charm.

When Sam finished talking, Gladys was anxious to speak up and fill in any blanks that she could. "Yes, yes. School teachers used to live there, you know."

The brothers nodded encouragingly to Gladys. Sam deepened the dimples while Dean brightened his smile as they leaned forward to hear more.

"It seemed a little scandalous to some of the ladies of the town, but others felt it was no different than a lady owning a boarding house and having gentlemen living there. The teacher was never the only resident, you see." The brothers nodded. They did, indeed, see.

Gladys lowered her voice a little conspiratorially as she continued, "You know, some of the teachers disappeared. There were searches and help was called in from all over the area to try to find them, but they were never found. My grandmother told me the story about this as I was much too young to be aware of any of it." She coyly patted her hair and glanced at the hunters.

The hunters enthusiastically agreed with her last statement. "Of course."

Sam took a sip of his tea and waited a second, hoping that Gladys would continue. When she didn't speak right up, he asked, "When the last occupants left the mansion, it was because Martin had disappeared, correct?"

"Yes. Such a terrible thing. It was exactly like the teachers that had disappeared; there was just no sign of him at all. The tenants all moved out and it was toward the end of the school year, so the last teacher resigned and left town."

"Lora Gregory," Sam offered.

"Right. My gran thought there was something going on there, but no one knew anything for sure."

Dean cocked an eyebrow at her. "Really? What _kind_ of something?"

Gladys lowered her voice again, "Well, according to Gran, Lora Gregory was in the 'family way' when she left town. No one had any proof, of course, and no one asked her, but she did appear to have put on a few pounds, so it's entirely possible."

"No kidding! Was Martin the father?" Dean asked as he grinned at Sam. _This might explain a few things._

"That's what was suspected. There was no Martin to be dealt with anymore so no one knew for sure. None of the other men in town owned up to it, but there was no need; she was gone. Apparently, though, it was quite the buzz around town for a while."

"I'll bet," the brothers said in unison.

The brothers looked at each other for a second, having a silent conversation and, turning back to Gladys, Sam said, "Do you have any idea where Lora went or where she was from? What happened to the baby? Are there any pictures of Miss Gregory?"

Gladys looked from one brother to the other, smiling. "My goodness. You boys are really interested in this story, aren't you?"

Dean stepped in for this one. "It's kind of a hobby of ours. Sam and I are real history buffs and we like to get a lot of information in little towns like this. It's the small towns of America that built this country and made it what it is. There're a lot of background stories like this all over the country and they're all very interesting."

The Winchester smile made another brilliant appearance along with Sam's dimples.

Gladys beamed at the boys in front of her, thoroughly impressed with their interest. "How nice. The small towns are so often driven right by in favor of going to the exciting big cities. There isn't much interest in quiet towns, anymore. Just no appreciation in this fast-paced world we live in." She looked down as she took a sip of her tea.

The brothers looked at her with sympathy, shaking their heads at the injustice of it all.

Gladys gathered herself once again and smiled. "I believe she was from Boston originally, but I don't know if that's where she returned to. There was a young lady here in town that she had become friendly with so there may have been some correspondence between the two. Give me a few minutes and I'll remember her name." The boys nodded. "As for a picture of Miss Gregory, I'm afraid not."

The young men in front of her seemed to slump slightly at her statement. As Dean reached for another cookie, Gladys gasped and cried, "Of course!"

The two hunters startled at her outcry, Dean nearly dropping the cookie, and watched as she nimbly jumped up to head toward one of the book shelves. Finding what she needed, she returned to the table and set the book down in front of her, palms pressed into the cover, a smile on her face. "This is another history of Harrison that was put together by the school board to show how diligent they were in providing education during the early part of the town's existence. I believe there are some pictures of some of the teachers in here. If I have one, it will be in this book."

As Gladys flipped through the book searching for the requested picture, the two brothers sat forward in their chairs as if their energy could help direct her to the proper page. Dean, never good at waiting, was bouncing his knees with such force that Sam had to punch him on the sly to get him to settle down. Sam made a face at his brother as Dean glared at him. Both tried to bring their anticipation under control.

"Ah ha."

Two sets of eyes returned to Gladys and Sam asked hopefully, "You found it?"

"Yes, I did." she responded happily, turning the book for the brothers to see.

They saw a pretty young lady with lots of light-colored, possibly red, hair smiling slightly to one side of the camera. She seemed to be a woman with spirit and, as he studied the picture, Dean became certain that he would have liked her.

"Betty Marquette."

The brothers' heads popped up at the statement, staring at Gladys in surprise.

"The name of Lora Gregory's friend here in town," she explained further, "I told you I'd think of it in a few minutes." Gladys beamed at the young hunters.

Relieved, the brothers let themselves relax and Dean asked, "Do you know if she's still alive?"

"Why yes, I believe she is. The last I heard she was living at the Bubbling Fountain Rest Home just up the block here. I'm afraid she's not well, though. She's into her 90's and not quite all there anymore - if you know what I mean." She looked at Dean with meaning in her eyes.

"Yes, ma'am, I do," he assured her and glanced at Sam. "Shall we go see if we can find Ms. Marquette — see if we can learn anything valuable from her?"

Sam nodded his agreement, turned his dimples on Gladys and the brothers stood to leave.

"Thank you so much, Gladys, for the tea, the cookies, and the information. You've really been very helpful." He took her hand and bent over it. Dean took her hand next, repeating the motion. No one could say the Winchesters didn't know how to be chivalrous. It wasn't used often, but could be trotted out for show when needed.

Gladys waved happily as they left. "Such nice young men!" Humming, she began to clear away the dishes and straighten up, grateful for the break in her morning.

Outside and munching on a last minute stolen cookie, Dean looked around. "What do you think, should we go visit Betty now? That must be the building Gladys was talking about." He pointed his jaw across the street and further up the block from the way they had come, absently rubbing his right leg while studying the ancient building. From where they were standing, they could tell the building needed a little paint, but it had obviously once been a grand estate of some sort. There were columns in the front with bushes lining the yard.

"You up for the walk? Is your leg hurting you? Let me see." Concerned as the injury was still fairly fresh, Sam reached to check the leg in question.

Brushing his brother's hands away, Dean replied, "It's fine, Sam. I think it got stiff sitting in there talking to Gladys." Dean was anxious to go, get on with the hunt, and then just relax for a couple of days. He had to admit to himself, though, that the feel of the day had changed a little.

Glancing up the road for oncoming traffic, the brothers crossed the street mid-block, heading toward the Bubbling Fountain Rest Home to speak to Ms. Betty Marquette.

"Guess there's no confusion as to the source of the name of the place," Dean observed as they approached a beautiful fountain in the front yard of the Home, stopping to admire the water-feature for a moment. "Very peaceful," Dean said quietly, seemingly drawn into the comfort of the setting. The fountain was surrounded by a beautiful flower bed bursting with color and fragrance.

"Very," Sam agreed.

The Winchesters seemed to be in a trance for a moment, but snapped out of it simultaneously, glanced at each other uncomfortably, and moved toward the front porch of the building. Neither spoke, not really needing to; they each knew what the other was thinking. Their lives were not peaceful and the opportunity to sit on a porch, watching a bubbling fountain didn't seem even remotely possible.

After inquiring about Betty Marquette, the brothers were directed to a sunny Florida room where several residents were gathered. There was a television playing that no one was watching — most of the occupants were in wheelchairs, seemingly unaware of their surroundings. A few were playing board games or putting together jigsaw puzzles scattered around the large sunny room, but they were the exception rather than the rule.

The Home had done a marvelous job of creating a cheerful space with tall windows reaching from the large doorway all the way around to again meet the doorway on the other side, creating a feel of a glassed in sun porch. The view of the town and the grounds of the Home was breathtaking. In the back of the grounds, a line of evergreens indicated the rear boundary, with flowering bushes lining the sides of the grounds.

Sam approached an orderly, asking for Betty Marquette and was directed to a lady sitting in the far corner in the sun. She was alternately staring out the window at the flower garden and studying the puzzle in front of her. The brothers were relieved that she was not a part of the group of vacant stares.

Making their way through the maze of residents, Dean was the first to speak, "Betty Marquette?"

She looked up at him and smiled sweetly, "Yes?" Her voice was fragile with age, but her blue eyes sparkled with life and merriment. She was bent over with the burden of her years and her hand shook as she indicated that the brothers should be seated. Her gray hair was tied up in a bun that sat perkily on top of her head.

Sensing another woman with spirit, Dean took an immediate liking to her, pulling up a chair to sit close to the lady. "My name is Dean Wilbur and this is my brother Sam. We'd like to ask you a few questions, if we may." Dean's voice was gentle and sincere.

"My goodness! What could I know that would be of any interest to two such handsome young men like yourselves? On the other hand, I might be able to teach you boys a thing or two — if you're willing to learn. It's been a while since I've had any suitors, but I'm still game." The smile on her lips matched the mischievous glint in her eyes.

Dean chuckled while Sam shifted on his feet. "I'm sure you could, Betty, and I might take you up on that sometime, but we're interested in some of Harrison's history." Betty stuck out her lower lip as Dean continued, "We understand you were good friends with a former teacher — a Miss Lora Gregory. Do you remember her?"

"Oh, yes. She was a lovely girl and we got along very well. I missed her when she moved away." Her voice took on a wistful tone as she spoke.

The siblings nodded sympathetically.

Dean continued gently, "I can imagine how you felt, Betty. It's really hard when someone you care so much about leaves you." Dean flicked his eyes in Sam's direction without making eye contact. He'd needed to say that to Betty, but he didn't want Sam to think he still held Stanford against him. Sam touched his brother's shoulder, communicating to him his understanding. As Dean continued with Betty, Sam squeezed his shoulder and let go. Dean nodded in acknowledgement.

"Did you hear from her after she left? Were there any cards or letters to let you know how she was doing?"

Betty brightened up immediately, "Yes, I did. We corresponded for many years until her death about ten years ago." The light dimmed in Betty's eyes for a brief moment, but as she looked at the brothers, she smiled. "Nothing lasts forever, does it, boys? We have to make the most of what we have, cherish our loved ones as long as we can while we still have them with us, don't we? You boys are brothers, so I'm sure you understand that." Her eyes went from one to the other.

This time, their eyes actually made contact, locking for a moment before Dean turned back to Betty with a smile. "Yes, ma'am. Samantha, here can be a pain sometimes, but he's my bro. Ow!" Dean ducked, swatting at the hand that had hit him on the back of the head.

The older hunter made a face at his brother and Sam squinted in return as Dean turned back to continue with Betty.

"I'm sorry to ask, but we heard a rumor that Lora might have been expecting a baby when she left town. Do you know anything about that?" Dean's eyes were kind as he laid a hand on hers.

Betty looked back and forth between the brothers with doubt in her eyes. She wasn't sure she could trust these young men, whom she had just met after all, with this information. The siblings waited patiently as she wrestled with her decision. Finally, she seemed to make up her mind. A small smile crossed her lips as she seemed to sit up a little straighter and clasped her hands in her lap.

"Lora _was_ expecting when she left town. There were some events that took place in the town toward the end of the school year that caused her to resign and leave town when school was over. She had hoped that it hadn't been noticed, but I heard the rumors and we were keeping in touch…" Betty gave a resigned shrug.

Sam asked the next question, quietly, "Did she keep the baby?"

"Yes, she did. A beautiful little girl. In those days, a lady in her 'condition' was a scandalous situation and she couldn't go home to Boston, so she went to Philadelphia. Her family had disowned her, so she had to make up a story about a dead husband and was able to get a job teaching in the elementary school. She had to change her name, but things were not easy for her at all. She was ultimately able to support herself and the baby; raised her to be a lady, as well."

Dean leaned a little more toward her as he asked, "Do you know what happened to her here?"

Becoming angry, Betty made a fist. "Mr. Harrison, who owned the boarding house, _raped_ her! She told me that he forced himself on her and threatened her life if she made a fuss. She was devastated, but a young woman alone in those days didn't really have much recourse. She was afraid of him. When I think of all that poor girl went through, it makes me ill."

Dean put a hand out to gently take one of hers. His voice was quiet when he spoke, "We know that there were disappearances before Lora came to town to teach, were there any more after she left?"

Betty shook her head, "There were no more after that. Everyone thought they were because of a curse on the mansion. No one ever stayed there again. No one disappeared from anyplace else in town either."

The brothers nodded simultaneously. "Any idea what happened to Mr. Harrison? We understand that he disappeared, too."

"No idea, but I know what I wanted to happen to him!" Betty's voice began to lose its fragility and neither brother doubted that this small lady had been a formidable woman in her day.

Dean patted the hand that he was still holding as he began to stand. "Thank you, Betty. You've been a big help. Would it be alright if we came to visit you again if we have time?" Dean's smile was brilliant as he gallantly leaned over to kiss her hand.

Betty instantly giggled shyly, ducking her head down and glancing up at him. "I'd love that. It's not often this old lady gets such charming company."

Dean shook his head, "You are so far from old, Betty, I'd like to take you dancing one night while we're here."

Betty's face turned a bright crimson as she pulled her hand out of Dean's grasp and picked up her fan to fan herself. "Just dancing?"

Dean laughed and winked, blowing her another kiss as the siblings turned to take their leave. "I'll leave that up to you."

Sam chuckled at his older brother as they walked out onto the sunny front porch and paused to look again at the fountain.

"What?"

"What, what!?

What are you chuckling at, Sammy?"

"You, Dean. You really poured it on back there. Poor Betty never stood a chance!"

The older brother glanced down the street toward the Historical Society and the corner they would need to turn to get back to the Impala. "I didn't pour _anything_ on, Sam. I really believe that if we were in a different time and met up, well — who knows? I think she was a strong woman in her prime and I probably would have really liked her."

Sam nodded. All amusement left Sam as he realized that Dean was serious. Dean could have any woman he wanted, but they were all one-night stands. He never seemed to find someone that he wanted to be with forever. The one woman he'd really felt that way about had freaked out when she found out what his job was; in fact, she hadn't even believed him. Sam's heart ached for his brother, but also realized that their job didn't really allow for long-term relationships; it was too dangerous. Sam, himself, had had first hand experience of that fact.

The younger man clapped his brother on the shoulder, "How's your leg, Dean? Can you make it back to the car or do you want me to go get it and pick you up here?"

"Nah, I'm good. Let's go." They stepped off the porch and headed back to the car.

By the time they got back to the Impala, Dean was beginning to limp much more noticeably. His pace slowed only slightly, but Sam adjusted to the new speed without comment. They took their normal positions in the car; the taller man knew there was no way his brother would admit to not being able to drive.

A few minutes later, the black beauty pulled into the lot of the motel in front of their room and Dean killed the engine. Sam started to open his door, but stopped as he noticed that his brother hadn't moved; he was staring straight ahead with a slight frown on his face.

"Dean?"

Nothing.

"Dean?" A little louder.

"What?" Startled, he looked at Sam.

"We getting out or what?"

"Uh, yeah, sure, Sammy." He opened his door and got out stiffly, stretching and visually checking around the area before heading to their room.

"You want to tell me where you were just then?" a note of concern in his voice.

Dean shook his head, "No place, really, I was just thinking about this case and wondering how we're going to take care of it. Any ideas?"

Sam shook his head, "None come to mind, but I think I'd like to take another look at your leg."

"It's fine, Sam." Dean closed the door and collapsed onto his bed. It was just after noon, but he was very tired — all he wanted was some peace and a nap without a little brother nagging.

"Uh huh. That's why you're limping and walking like an old man. At least take these." Sam held out some painkillers and a water bottle.

"Yes, ma'am." Dean dutifully took the proffered pills and shoved them into his mouth. Taking the bottle, he gulped half of it in one go and gave it back to his brother who sat it on the night stand.

Dean dragged his exhausted body over to the other bed and gently lay down, allowing Sam to hover and help with the arranging of the pillows. "'Night, Mom."

Shaking his head and grinning at his brother, Sam replied, "'Night, Dean." He closed the heavy curtain to cut out the daylight and opened his laptop.

**WWW**

**Please Review! Thanks for reading!  
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	5. Chapter 5

Thanks to you all for your terrific reviews and to all the readers who have put me or this story on alert. I'm thrilled beyond words. Only one more chapter after this one.

They aren't mine, sniff, but I'm going to give them hugs this weekend. Woohoo!

Enjoy.

**WWW**

Chapter 5

Sam was frustrated with his research. There just wasn't much out there to help them on this case. He watched his brother sleep, listening to his even breathing and decided it wouldn't hurt him to lie down for a while, too. They didn't get regular sleep at the best of times, but on a case, they had learned to grab it when they could.

Dean hadn't moved after he drifted off, so there was plenty of room for Sam to stretch out his lanky frame and relax. Before settling down, he gently placed the back of his hand on Dean's forehead to check for any signs of fever. Satisfied his brother's temperature was normal, he lay back and got comfortable. Maybe he wouldn't sleep, but just lie there and rest — let his subconscious mind work on the situation while he shut down. He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. Soon, however, the quietness of the room and the soothing sound of Dean's gentle snoring lulled Sam into a dreamless sleep.

www

Something was going on; there was something different. Sam awoke but kept his eyes shut, senses suddenly on high alert. There was no sound at all. Weird. As he opened his eyes and blinked, he realized that any daylight that might have come in around the curtain was gone and there was an eerie glow to the room. Sitting up and looking around, he saw that Dean's bed had changed into the bed from the other side.

Sensing his brother's movements, Dean, who was lying on his side facing Sam, stirred and opened his eyes.

"Sammy?" he whispered, glancing up, hunters senses instantly alert.

Sam glanced down at his brother and shook his head, "The room is changing; your bed is the bed from the other side."

Eyes wide, Dean rolled over to see the other bed. He certainly hadn't doubted his brother, but he had to see it for himself. Giving an involuntary shudder at the sight, he turned back to Sam.

"How weird is this? Here we are on one regular bed while a couple of feet away there's a bed from another time and — whatever!"

"Very weird," Sam chuckled. "Are we sure we're okay over here?"

"I don't know why but I'm pretty sure we're fine. I'm not going to get up and take a chance, though. I'm staying right here and waiting for it to go away. Feel free to get up and check for yourself if you want." Dean flopped onto his back and glanced back and forth between the other bed and his brother.

"We're not going to know if we don't try." Sam made as if to get off the bed, but Dean's strong grip on his upper arm prevented it.

"Are you crazy? Stay put!"

"Why? You said I should check it out." the corner of Sam's mouth twitching as he spoke.

Dean took a swipe at his little brother's head, "Don't be an idiot!"

Both young men watched the bed in question as the lighting in the room changed again. The bed was becoming indistinct and the warm glow of the lamplight was fading as the room was becoming dark. The glow faded completely and everything _appeared_ to have returned to normal. Dean reached out, switching on the lamp on the bed table; the other bed had returned to its original condition. There now appeared to be nothing unusual at all in the room. The older hunter turned around as he felt the bed shift; Sam was getting up.

"What're you doin', Sam?"

"We're back to normal, Dean. It's safe."

The older man pointed at his brother, "You stay put; I'll check it out!"

"Dean…"

"Sam!" Dean sat on the edge of the bed, reaching a hand out beyond the bed table, everything still seemed to be real and not an optical illusion. Glancing behind him to make sure Sam was still where he was told to be, he pushed off the bed and took a step forward. Nothing happened. Another step. Nothing. Another step put him at the bed and still nothing.

He turned back to Sam, sighed, and allowed a grin to form on his handsome face. "I guess we're okay."

"Uh huh," Sam grumbled, an angry glare on his face. "How come you had to be the first one up?"

Dean shrugged, "I was closer — and it's my job."

"Idiot!" Sam punched the bed and walked around it to stare Dean in the eyes as much as their height difference would allow. "What if you had gone to the other side and the room changed back to normal and I couldn't get to you? Huh? You'd be over there alone…in your underwear, I might add…with no back up or weapons or anything!"

The anger rolling off the younger Winchester was heavy enough to cause Dean to back up a step and look down. He _was_ in his underwear. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to take a chance on you going over there, and I didn't think — "

"Exactly!" Sam interrupted. "You didn't think! You've got to stop being so reckless with your own safety. Your leg is injured, too … what if…" Sam huffed and lowered his head, unable to really stay angry with his brother. "How many times do I have to explain this to you? I'm twenty-four years old. I'm a big boy and can take care of myself. It's not solely your job to take care of me anymore. We're supposed to take care of each other. We have to be careful with this whole situation and be sure that neither one of us gets caught in that other room alone. We _have_ to go together, prepared and fully armed."

"I know, Sam. You're right. I'm an idiot. It's just hard to break the habit of a lifetime, and I'm not so sure I want to, but I will try." He pulled Sam's head down to his shoulder and patted his brother on the back. "Let's get ice and sodas and see what we can come up with, okay?"

The younger man nodded against his brother's shoulder; his idiotic, moronic, pain-in-the-ass older brother. God he loved this crazy man.

"Okay." Dean gave the back of his brother's neck a squeeze before letting go, and gave him a little shove away. "I'm going to throw my jeans on and go get the drinks. Do you think you can find anything else on the internet?"

"I don't know, Dean. There hasn't been anything helpful at all the last I checked, but I'll try again. Maybe something new has come up."

Sam moved toward the laptop as Dean sat to put his jeans on. "Okay. I'll be back in a few minutes and we can go over everything we've got again. I promise, Sammy, we won't go off half-cocked on this; we'll have a plan well in place. Okay, Princess?"

Giggling, Dean hurried out the door missing the glare and rude gesture his little brother sent in his direction.

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Sam was lost in his research a few moments later when the door suddenly slammed open and his excited older brother, laden with drinks and a full ice bucket, burst into the room. Sam relaxed from the fighting stance he'd automatically assumed at the unexpected invasion. "What the hell, Dean?"

"Sam!" Dean unceremoniously dropped the drinks and ice bucket onto the table and grabbed his brother's arm. "Come on, Man, you're not going to believe this." Dean turned and headed out the door but was pulled back as his little brother firmly stood his ground.

"What's going on?" Sam was becoming alarmed at the older hunter's behavior.

"Dude! Come with me. You so have to hear this." Dean could hardly stand in one place he was so excited.

Sam began to slowly walk forward in confusion as his big brother behaved like an anxious dog that had to go out. "Okay, I'm coming. Tell me what's going on."

Dean grinned slyly at his brother, happy that Sam was finally moving. "You've got to hear this, Sammy . . . you're _not_ going to believe it."

"Yeah, you said that." Sam was beginning to smile as his brother's excitement became contagious. Soon, he was moving as fast as Dean toward the office, still not knowing what was going on.

As they burst into the lobby, Sam saw Rusty standing there with a small smile on his face and he became more confused. He looked from his brother to the night clerk and back. All three men were now sporting big smiles, but to Sam, it seemed as if they had all lost their minds.

"Would one of you guys tell me what all the excitement is about . . . please?"

Dean and Rusty looked at each other and the hunter made a gallant gesture that gave Rusty permission to deliver the news to the young man with the very large question mark above his head.

"Give my brother the punch line, Rusty."

Rusty nodded and turned to Sam with a big smile still on his face, "Lora Gregory was my grandmother."

Sam blinked at Rusty, the smile still on his face, but a little less certain. He looked at Dean, whose smile was still huge, waiting for Sam to get it. Sam blinked again . . . and the light came on.

"Lora Gregory was your grandmother?" Sam's smile doubled in size as he turned back to Dean. "He's the key!"

Dean nodded and clapped his brother on the arm as he laid his other hand on Rusty's. "This man holds the key to what's going on."

"Oh my God, Dean. This man has been right here all along."

Dean was laughing and nodding his head, enjoying his brother's excitement.

"We really can come up with a plan, now. How did you guys figure this out?"

Dean shrugged "While I was getting the drinks and the ice, I stopped to talk to Rusty here and asked him how long he'd been in town. Figured we should just ask everyone, right?"

Rusty chimed in at this point, "I haven't been here all that long . . . several months, I guess. My family is all gone and I came here to be close to my grandmother's best friend. Grandma Lora used to talk about her a lot and my mother and I used to come to visit from time to time. She's the closest thing I have to family, now. I like the area and when I had nothing left to keep me in the east . . ." Rusty shrugged as if the rest of the story was obvious.

"My full name is Russell Gregory Porter. The Gregory has been kept out of respect for Grandma Lora. She kept her baby at a time when an unwed mother was a real scandal. It wasn't easy for her, but she was determined to give her daughter the best life she could and all the love in the world. That name and this cross are all that I have left of her." He lifted a gold chain out of his shirt that held a locket with a small golden cross engraved on it and showed it to the hunters. "There's an inscription on the back that says, 'Love conquers all'" Rusty quoted from memory as he squinted, trying to read the tiny words. "My eyes aren't what they used to be.

"Anyway, this was hers, then my mother's, and now it's mine. Neither of them ever took it off and neither do I. I don't think it's worth much in the way of money, but it means a lot to me. She was a wonderful woman. My mother and I never lacked for love. When my dad died, we moved back in with Grandma Lora and never regretted it." His blue eyes twinkled as he spoke of his mother and grandmother. He had obviously loved as much as he'd been loved.

The three men stood smiling at each other, lost in their own thoughts, until Dean clapped his hands together, slightly startling the other two men. "Well, I don't know about you guys, but I think we should get down to business. Rusty, we're really gonna need your help with this. I'm sure my geek boy brother can explain what's going on while I go back to our room for the sodas I left there." Dean patted Sam on the shoulder and headed out the door, oblivious to the mouth agape expression on his brother's face.

In his glee, Dean nearly skipped to their room, only prevented by his sore leg. He stuck his key in the lock, held his breath until the light came right on, bounced inside, grabbed the sodas, and headed back out to join Rusty and Sam in the office. He felt sure his brother would have explained the situation by now, meaning that Dean wouldn't have to.

Entering the office and passing out the sodas, including one for Rusty, the elder Winchester was all smiles. He waggled his eyebrows at Sam and turned to the clerk. "So what do you think, Rusty? Did you have any clue about all of this? Were there any complaints about the room we're in from anyone else?"

Rusty shook his head in wonderment. "No, I had no idea. No one has said anything at all about that room. One couple had paid for three nights, but left after the first one; said their plans had changed and they needed to move on. I guess my plans would have changed, too, if I went through what your brother here's been telling me. It's all true, then?" His eyes moved from one Winchester to the other, hoping for some sign that they were joking, but finding none. Sighing and casting his eyes at the floor, Rusty said, "What can be done?"

The brothers let out the breaths they'd been holding, flicking eyes toward each other, but it was Sam who spoke, "We need your help. You're a descendant of Lora Gregory and you can help us do what needs to be done. You have your grandmother's necklace; whether it holds any power or not, we're not sure, but it proves your lineage. We're pretty sure you're the one to help us get this situation resolved; you're the key to it. Dean and I need to go over there to take care of the spirit or spirits that are keeping this going and there will most likely be bones that need to be salted and burned. That's going to take both of us, but you can help us get back. If you don't, we'll likely be stuck over there and probably die."

The older man looked up in horror at the thought that these two young men might not come back from the 'other side'. Dean spoke up, "It's not one hundred percent certain, but there's a good chance. We'd have to wait for the room to change on its own, but there's no way we can count on that; it just seems too random an occurrence. If you open the door from this side for us, we'll be able to get out. If not…" The young hunter let his voice trail off as he shrugged.

Sam put his hand on the motel clerk's shoulder to offer some support. "It won't be dangerous for you at all, man."

Rusty raised his eyes to the two young men before him. "You might die! Isn't there some other way? Can't we just let it go?"

The older sibling shook his head. "You said yourself that someone else has probably experienced some unpleasantness in that room. At the rate it's been happening to us, I'd say the unhappy spirit is picking up the pace. Maybe it senses your presence and who you are — wants to get to you for revenge or something. It obviously has a claim to the land and isn't going to rest until it gets what it wants or 'til we stop it. Sam and I do this kind of thing all the time. We know what we're doing and watch out for each other. With you to let us out our chances are really good of coming back from there. My brother and I will go whether you help us or not. We can't let this go on — we can't let other people get hurt. It's up to you, man. What do you say?"

The red head collapsed onto his chair, his shoulders slumping, his eyes going from one brother to the other. "If you insist on going, I'll help you. I'd never forgive myself if I let you go over there, didn't help, and you didn't come back. You're sure you'll come back?"

Both brothers nodded their heads solemnly, understanding that the older man needed the assurance. They also knew that nothing was guaranteed in their line of work, but with Rusty helping, the odds were definitely in their favor.

"Okay!" The clerk slapped his hands on his knees and sat up straight with a bright, determined look on his face. "Let's get this done. What's first and when do we start?"

Sam's shoulders sagged in relief as Dean rubbed his hands together in anticipation of getting on with the hunt. The older hunter laid a hand on the clerk's shoulder. "Thanks, man. Come on down to our room and we'll show you what we've been talking about with the door key. We can either give you one of ours, or you can make another of your own. We'll set up an amount of time to pass before you try to bring us back, then we'll go and you just have to let us out when the time comes. Okay?"

"Okay." Rusty nodded.

"Good. Let's go." Dean led the way to their room, sticking his key into the lock. It took a few tries but the light finally hesitated allowing the door to open onto the 'other side'. As he held the door open for all to see inside, he glanced at the older man to see his reaction.

"My God!" was Rusty's only statement. He stood with eyes bulging and mouth agape, his gaze flicking back and forth around the other room, trying to take it all in. "This is where you went?" His question was directed at Dean.

"Yep. When I was inside with the door closed, I turned around to see if I could get out. The door had changed to wood and opened out onto a hallway that matched the room. It was a surprise, to say the least."

Rusty took a deep breath and turned to the brothers. "Okay, so you need me to open the door for you, but not until the light blinks and hesitates to come on; just like this time? How much time will you need?"

Sam's eyes flicked to his older brother. "Time seems to travel at a different pace over there, it seems to be about double speed on this side, so you won't have to wait too long."

"I think we should be able to take care of the spirit 'over there' in an hour's time, don't you?" Dean glanced at his brother for confirmation. "We know where it is, I've been there and know what we need to take with us. The tools reacted the same way both times I was in the basement, so we know what to expect. Preparation is everything, so we'll be prepared this time and just get the freakin' job done."

Dean's smile was the confident, carefree smile that the younger Winchester loved and hated. As a child, that smile on his big brother's face always filled him with confidence and made him feel completely safe. As an adult, that smile on his big brother's face usually made him want to roll his eyes. This particular time was one of the former. He did feel confident about this. Neither of them was going to be safe, but they'd have each other's backs and could prepare as much as possible. He was sure they could do this.

"Yeah, I do think so," he chuckled. "We can do the job in an hour, Rusty. Two hours from the time we leave, you start trying to get the door open. We'll be counting on you." Sam's smile now mirrored Dean's.

The clerk stood in awe of these two young men. They had to be pulling his leg, but he was sure they weren't. It all made too much sense. It all fit — everything his grandmother had told him, all that he'd learned from Betty, and the experiences these men in front of him had on the 'other side'. He touched the necklace he was wearing thoughtfully, but then his smile widened to match the Winchesters. He was going to make a difference in something. This was important. He could help. His eyes went back and forth between the brothers. "You don't have to worry about a thing, boys. I'll be here and right on time. If you're delayed, I won't stop until I get you back. I promise!"

The brothers glanced back at each other, then at Rusty. "I know we can trust you, man." Dean pounded the older man on the back, nearly knocking him over.

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"What do you want to use as a shield from the lawn equipment?" Sam asked as he checked the items in the weapons bag for the fourth time.

"Bedspread."

The younger man stopped his rummaging to stare at his older brother in disbelief. "A bedspread? Are you crazy? A bedspread's not going to protect us from that stuff; a pitchfork will go right through it!"

"Yeah, I know, but we don't really have anything that will shield us, so we'll have to go with something that'll at least slow the tools down or confound them. There're two in this room and one in the 'other room', so we take them and throw them over or at stuff that's trying to get to us. First thing is that pile of tools, then whatever else." Dean shrugged his shoulders and rested his eyes on Sam. "If you have any other ideas, I'm completely open."

Sam stared at his brother for several moments, trying to figure out another way to go on this. Ultimately, he had nothing and dropped to the bed where Dean was cleaning the last of the weapons. The older man glanced toward him quizzically. "I got nothin', Dean. Bedspreads it is. I can't believe this." He shook his head.

Dean leaned into his little brother's shoulder with a smirk. "It's gonna be okay, Sammy. We'll just go down there, do what we do, and get out." He shrugged one shoulder as he sat back up. "We're Winchesters and we may not come out unscathed, but we _will_ come out, I promise." His eyes were locked on Sam's, refusing to let them go, willing his brother to accept the promise.

The younger man allowed the visual lock to continue, drawing from it, feeling his strength and confidence grow. He hadn't been afraid to do the job. He'd been raised for this kind of thing; had trained all his life, but his big brother had promised they'd come back. That was that; what they did. He smiled as he nodded to the older man. "Okay," he said as he pushed his own shoulder into Dean's. "Are you just about ready?"

"Yep. This is the last weapon and I'm all set. You brought plenty of salt, right?"

"Our whole supply. I'll go get Rusty, then." Sam headed for the door, pausing before opening it to look back at the older Winchester, watching his brother's efficiency and confidence as he put the last weapon in the bag and began to gather the bedspreads. Sam left before the other man noticed his gaze. His brother didn't want to have a 'moment', he knew. As he walked toward the office and Rusty, he couldn't help wondering how much longer his brother would be able to keep that promise.

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Rusty looked up at the sound of the bell as the door opened, surprised to be a little nervous when he realized it was Sam. His heart skipped a beat, then began hammering in his chest. This was it, then. They were ready to start and wanted him at their room to go over any last-minute details. Taking a deep breath, holding it for a moment, he let it out and greeted the young hunter before him with a nod. "Sam. Time to go?"

"It is. We're all set. We'd like you to come down to our room to 'see us off', sort of. Are you ready?"

"I am, but I'm not the one going to the 'other side' to do battle with a spirit, for crying out loud. Are you boys ready — sure you want to do this?"

"This is what we do and who we are. We've been doing this all our lives and we're pretty good at it. Dean's waiting, so let's get going." Sam was suddenly struck with the need to get going with this and just get it done so they could move on. They needed to do this job; they couldn't allow anyone else to get hurt, but he'd thought his brother was dead, or worse — no there wasn't anything worse — and that was unacceptable. He wanted to take this bitch down. As they left the office, he smirked at the sound of his big brother's voice in his head.

Approaching the Winchester's motel room, Dean was standing outside, having just put down the last bag. The bedspreads were folded — sort of — and piled beside the weapons bag. He was holding his favorite shotgun and the two large flashlights along with Sam's .45. He offered his little brother one of the flashlights and the .45 as the two men approached. The older hunter offered their new friend a smile of reassurance as he glanced toward the motel clerk.

"You should take my key, I think. It might connect you to us and make the lock work in our favor, okay?" Dean said as he handed his key over.

Rusty looked at it and shrugged. "Makes as much sense as anything else I've heard or seen today." He took the proffered key, put it in his pocket, and held his hand out to Dean and then to Sam. I'll be here opening the door at the end of two hours on this side. You can count on that. I sure am going to have something to tell Betty about the next time I see her!"

Dean's face lit up at the mention of the frail old woman's name. "I'll bet she was quite a girl in her day."

Chuckling, Rusty replied, "That's what Grandma said. They were quite a pair." His tone turned serious suddenly, "You boys be careful, now."

The Winchesters nodded and all three men looked at their watches. No one spoke as no words were necessary. Sam took out his key, stuck it into the lock, hesitated as he glanced at Dean, and pulled it out again. The light came on immediately, causing the three men to deflate in unison.

"I guess it was too much to expect success on the first try, huh? One more time, Sammy."

Once again, they took a collective breath as Sam pushed his key into the lock and pulled it out. This time the light blinked a couple of times before coming on solidly. The youngest Winchester pushed down on the handle and opened the door, exposing the 'other room'. Turning to look at the motel clerk, the young hunter couldn't help but chuckle. The older man, even though he'd known what to expect, was once again standing with mouth agape.

Rusty glanced at Sam, the younger man's chuckle breaking the older man's trance-like state. "Sorry. Even though I knew what I'd see, it was still a surprise. I'd been trying to convince myself that it had all been a dream, the motel wasn't haunted, you boys weren't headed out to do battle with an evil spirit, and this was nothing more than a motel room." He grinned sheepishly as he made this confession.

Both brothers laughed at that. "Not to worry, Rusty, Sam and I have felt that way our whole lives. Unfortunately, it's not a dream and we need to get in there. It's becoming way too easy to get to that room so the spirit is stepping things up a bit. We so can't have that!"

The hunters picked up their supplies, walked through the door, and turned to wave at the clerk. "Two hours, man, okay?" Dean pointed at his wristwatch, causing Rusty to glance at his own.

"I'll be here, don't worry."

The older hunter nodded and closed the door. Rusty waited a couple of seconds, thrust the key he'd been given into the lock, and pulled it back out. The light came on immediately and he opened the door . . . onto a regular motel room. Closing the door and shaking his head, he turned to go back to the motel office. _I just don't believe it! This surely isn't possible, but I saw them go with my own eyes. I've got to be sure and bring them back; they're counting on me." _The red-headed man glanced again at his watch and hurried back to his chair, determined to stay awake so as not to let the hunters down. Pacing back and forth behind the desk, completely unable to relax enough even to sit down for a moment, the man realized that staying awake was not going to be an issue. Just for something to do, he made a fresh pot of coffee.

**WWW**

Please let me know what you think. :D


	6. Chapter 6

Initial A/N: Here we are at the end of our ride. I hope you all enjoy the final chapter.

I own nothing and intend no copyright infringement. :)

**WWW**

Chapter 6

The Winchesters waited for a couple of seconds, staring at the door. Dean glanced at his brother, then reached out to turn the knob as Sam held his breath. As the door opened, the younger hunter let the breath out; surprised, but not really. He'd known what to expect, but actually seeing it was a different matter. Both brothers stepped into the hallway, looking down toward the other end. "It's the one on the end wall. The others are all locked or stuck or whatever, but it's the only one that will open. You'll see how evil it feels as we get closer to it. You hold this door open and I'll take some of the stuff down there so we don't lose anything to our own side accidentally. Okay, Sammy?"

Sam could only nod his head in agreement, leaning on the door as he helped Dean pick up the bedspreads from 'their' room. Letting his foot hold the door open, he kept an eye on his brother as he hurried down the hall, slowing as he approached the evil door. Sam's heart beat a little faster and his breath quickened as Dean got closer to it. Not trusting that the other doors were still locked, his eyes darted from one to the next and back to his brother, but nothing issued from any of them. He made a mental note to check them as he and Dean passed by, however.

The older hunter turned and hobbled back towards Sam, happy to get away from the oppressiveness by the basement. His leg had throbbed as he approached the door, but he wasn't quite sure if that was real or his mind causing it in reaction to his trepidation. Either way, he was very glad to have his brother watching his back this time. He noticed the look of concern on Sam's face as the younger man's eyes darted around the hall. _That's my boy. Keep an eye on everything, Sammy._ Smirking as he saw his brother relax, Dean gave him a gentle back-handed slap on the chest as he passed by to get the bedspread from this room, too. The two hunters gathered the rest of their stuff and headed down the hall toward the basement; Sam checking each door as they passed. The older man heard the quiet rattle of the doorknobs, knowing it was his little brother. _Good boy — just in case._

As the hunters approached the basement door, Sam began to feel an oppressiveness descend on him. It seemed to get stronger as they got closer, upsetting his concentration a fraction. "Was this oppressive feeling here before?"

"Yeah, but it's getting worse. It was only by the door in the basement the first time. It's even worse now than when I was just here with the other bedspreads. I think the spirit knows we're coming and it's trying to stop us. It's not only spreading, it's stronger than before, Sammy. We're going to have to be double alert down there."

"Do you really think it's trying to get to our side?"

Dean shrugged. "Maybe. Whatever's going on, we have to stop it."

Sam nodded at his brother's back. "Yeah, I know." His lips set in a determined line, eyes giving off a steely glint.

They reached the basement door and stopped, eyes locked for a moment until through some unspoken agreement, Dean reached out to the doorknob, twisted, and pushed the door open. The oppressive feeling increased ten-fold as the door opened, sending shivers down both brothers' spines. Sam placed the items he was carrying on the floor, picked up the two bedspreads his brother had left there, and tossed them to the bottom of the stairs, not sure what to expect as he did so. The hunters stood for a second, Dean remembering the sound of the tools hitting the other side of the door, and Sam giving a little shudder in response to the unknown evil.

"Ready, Sam?"

"As much as I'll ever be."

"Here we go." Dean moved out, beginning the descent of the stairs, eyes busy taking in everything that could be seen in the beam of his flashlight. He sensed Sam right behind him, knowing that his little brother was doing the same. Each man held a flashlight in one hand and a weapon in the other. Dean was carrying the weapons bag; Sam had the remaining bedspread. Stepping in unison, the brothers finally reached the basement floor.

Sam shone his light on the tools in the corner. "Are those the murderous garden tools?"

"That's them. How about throwing one of the bedspreads over them? Might make it a little more difficult for them to be able to fly."

"Yeah, good idea." The younger brother put his weapon down, trusting Dean to have his back while he performed this task. Shaking out the bedspread he was still holding, he threw it over the pile of tools, standing there for a second to see what would happen.

"Earth to Sammy."

Startled, Sam glanced toward his brother. "Sorry. I guess I was expecting something to happen. Maybe not until we start to work?"

"That's what happened before. They were just tools until I started to work on the lock." The older man nodded toward the door, taking Sam's eyes with him. "The sound came first. I thought it was rats." He shuddered. "Then, the little hand trowel came at me and embedded in the door." He made a 'twanging' motion with his finger. "I didn't see anyone, the rest of the tools were shuddering, and I took the hint."

The younger hunter grinned at his brother. "It'll work this time. I've got your back; there won't be any lawn tools flying at you this time . . . or rats."

The older man rolled his eyes and turned to get to work on the door lock. Sam chuckled to himself as he retrieved his weapon and flashlight from the floor, following his brother to the ancient lock. He whistled in appreciation for the antique as Dean took out his lock picking kit and began once more to attempt the opening of the door. The older hunter kneeled down on the dirty floor in front of the lock, placed the flashlight under his chin, and frowned in concentration as he began to work on the old lock.

Sam stood behind and a little to the side of his brother in an attempt to see both the bulk of the room and Dean. He shined the flashlight around the room in a constant motion, not wanting anything to catch them by surprise. As the light crossed the pile of tools under the bedspread, he noticed a slight movement and brought his light to rest on the activity. _It's trying to happen again. No wonder Dean thought it was rats; it definitely sounds like it from here._ He smirked briefly at the thought of his brother's rat phobia, but was immediately serious again as the tool activity increased. Deciding a little more deterrent was in order, Sam stuck the shotgun into his waistband and bent to pick up the second bedspread. He shook it out to only be folded in half. Approaching the corner, the noise and activity greatly increased as the larger tools joined in on the action. His heart raced and his breathing became more rapid until he was able to get the extra spread onto the pile. The tools didn't stop their struggle, but they didn't seem strong enough to make it out from under their covers either. Keeping a wary eye on the activity, the young hunter backed toward his brother; eyes flicking around the rest of the basement and back to the angry tools.

"Sam?"

"Yeah, they don't seem to be able to get out from under the two bedspreads. I think we've got that issue taken care of."

"Good. I think I'll have this done in just a minute. It's really stuck, but no match for Dean Win - ches - ter." The determined hunter grunted as he toppled back from the lock, aggravated because the lock had not yet been opened. "Sonuvabitch! I'll show that sucker who's in charge." The angry hunter scrambled back up, returning with renewed purpose to the ancient lock while the younger man, seeing his brother was all right, valiantly tried to stifle a chuckle. Dean returned to his efforts as the tools in the corner once again made an attempt at escaping but were unable to defeat the weight of the two bedspreads.

Sam stood behind his brother again, flashlight held steady on the activity under the bedspreads, alert to the sounds of the struggling tools. He'd just begun to move his light around the dark room when his brother whooped behind him. "You okay, Dean?" He glanced at his older sibling, but continued his guard duties.

"Yeah. I got the freakin' lock open is all. The door's stuck, though. Come and help me with it, okay?"

Backing toward the door and his big brother, Sam cautiously put down his flashlight and weapon to take hold of the door handle. At a silent count of three, the brothers both pulled mightily on the door, sailing across the room and landing in a Winchester tangle of bodies and limbs when the door suddenly gave. Momentarily stunned, they lay there for a second but simultaneously began to try and break free.

"Get off me, freak!"

"You get off, shorty!"

"Ow!"

"Sorry. Ow! What was that for?"

"Something's jabbing me in the ribs and it tickles. Stop it!"

"Grow up. I'm not tickling you. Haven't tickled you in fifteen years."

"Damn, Sammy, get your ginormous body off me. Where's the flashlight?"

"I think I feel it; hold on a sec. Yep, here it is." Sam turned on the flashlight, illuminating the room.

"Whew! That's what was poking me. Thanks."

Dean looked up at his now-standing little brother and held up his hand. Sam took it, pulled his big brother to his feet, both turning back toward the open door. The younger hunter shined his light back and forth on the floor, looking for the other flashlight, indicating its discovered location with the steady beam. The older sibling retrieved it, breathing a sigh of relief as it lit up when he pushed the button. Both beams focused on the now accessible closet, the brothers closed in on the opening, Dean reaching it first and sticking his head inside — gasping and pulling back immediately.

"Gah! That's horrible!"

"What did you see?"

"Nothing, but it stinks to high heaven in there. We need to do this quick and get out of here, Sam."

"Agreed. I —"

Whatever Sam was going to say was cut off by the sound of glass shattering on the floor. Two flashlights instantly aimed in the direction of the sound, finding a jar of fruit had fallen off the shelf. The brothers glanced at each other then got busy with their own duties; no further discussion was needed.

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Rusty was on his fifth cup of coffee. He was beginning to think he should have made decaf as his nerves had already been jumpy before he started drinking the brew. He'd only made and drank it for something to do, so decaf probably would have been fine. _Too late now._ Glancing at his watch, he noted that a little over an hour had passed already, but that meant that there was still almost a full hour to go. He briefly considered going to see if the hunters were back in the room, but discarded the idea when he reminded himself of the time difference. _They can't have had time to really accomplish much of anything, can they?_ Wringing his hands, he came to a decision. He grabbed the key that Dean had given him, left the office, and headed toward the door to the hunters' room. _I'm gonna need something to prop the door open. What?_ He looked around the parking lot as he went and found an old brick lying at the end of the walk. _Where'd that come from?_ Shrugging, he picked it up, deciding it was fit for his purpose. Trying to steady himself with a deep breath, the clerk moved his shaking hand toward the lock. He pushed the key card into the slot, let out the breath, and pulled it back out. The light came on immediately.

He started to open the door to make sure, but was distracted by the sound of a car pulling into the parking lot. Looking toward the car, he saw a man exit the driver's side and head toward the office. _Crap!_ Glancing back at the room, the clerk hurried to the office to see what the man wanted. Hopefully, it was just a room for the night and could be dealt with quickly. He wanted to do any motel work as fast as possible to be free when the time came to let the hunters out. _Nothing's more important than getting those young men back safely."_ Plastering a smile on his face as he walked through the office door, he said, "Good evening, Sir. Would you like a room?"

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The smell of peaches was filling the basement. It had been pleasant at first, but another jar had fallen, landing a little further away from the shelves. The smell was becoming stronger and neither Winchester, although fond of peaches, was liking the smell mixed with the rancid odor coming from the closet.

"Got any more lighter fluid? I really want to make sure about this."

"How many bodies are in there?" Sam rummaged in the weapons bag, looking for more of the requested item.

"Not sure, but I saw at least five sculls. One of them was bigger, so that's gotta be the missing owner, huh?"

"Yeah, probably. This is the last can. I hope we've added enough to make this work."

Dean shrugged as he emptied the sixth can of lighter fluid into the closet. "I'm pretty sure we're good, but there's never a guarantee; you know that. We've used a whole bag of salt and six cans of lighter fluid. There're old clothes in there that should catch immediately, so with any luck, there won't be an issue."

The sound of another jar hitting the floor from the shelf caused both men to jump, turning their flashlights in the direction of the sound.

"It's getting the range. Light it up, Dean!"

For an answer, the older man took out a disposable Bic lighter, flicked the igniter, held the flame to a stream of lighter fluid that had spilled just outside the closet door, waited a brief moment as the liquid caught with a 'whoompf', and stood up. The sound of glass breaking and his little brother's yelp snapped his attention away from the flame.

"What the hell?"

"I'm okay. Another jar flew from the shelf. This one shattered right next to my foot. Surprised me is all." The younger man's smile turned to a frown and then to a look of disgust. "Ewwww. Pickled beets. Blech! Doesn't mix well with peaches."

Trying not to gag on the odor that was only going to get worse now that the fire was going, Dean glanced at the lighter, and threw it into the closet. At Sam's quizzical look, he replied, "It's a little more lighter fluid. Can't hurt."

"No, I guess not — down!"

The older man instantly hit the ground as a can flew toward him from the workbench. It was full of screws and nails, causing a racket as it slammed into the wall where Dean had been standing.

Spurred to action, Sam picked up the third and last bedspread, and threw it over the workbench just as another can, this time containing screwdrivers, began to lift. "Let's go!"

Dean was already gathering their things, tossing a flashlight to Sam, who snatched it from the air with a practiced hand. The younger hunter retrieved his weapon, shining the flashlight around the room one more time, looking for any other dangers that might try for them. The garden tools under the two bedspreads were trying to get out, the top of the workbench was in constant motion, but the sight that really gave the brothers pause was the shelves of fruits and vegetables. The jars appeared to be lining up to take turns launching themselves at the hunters.

"Run, Sam!"

"You first. I'll watch your back. Your leg isn't good enough to get yourself up the stairs if you bring up the rear."

At the 'I can argue this all day and we don't have time for that' look on his little brother's face, Dean moved toward the stairs as a jar of green beans sailed towards the spot where he'd been standing. "It's getting stronger." Dean coughed. "The next one might be a direct hit." The older man did his best to hurry up the stairs, coughing at the stench of the burning bones, smoke, and the smashed jars of fruits and vegetables.

Sam moved behind his brother, coughing and holding his shotgun in his right hand with the flashlight in his left. Another jar flew from the shelf, and the young hunter fired at it, causing it to shatter before coming close enough to do any damage.

The blaze from the fire in the closet had taken hold very well, causing the room to flicker as the flames licked up the wall by the stairs. The heat was becoming unbearable and added an extra aspect to the stench already trying to choke the brothers.

Another blast from Sam's shotgun and another jar crashed to the ground. The hunters were half-way up the stairs. Dean tapped his brother on the shoulder, giving him his shotgun, then hurried the rest of the way up the stairs. Sam had to fire twice more before reaching the top where his big brother was waiting to shut the door. Both men were coughing badly by this time.

"This whole place is going to burn down."

"I know. It had to happen, but what else could we do? I just hope Rusty's there with the key to open the door before we roast."

Smoke began to shove tendrils under the door, acting almost as if it were alive, looking for the hunters, and wanting to grab them to take them back to the fire. Both men backed away from the door, taken aback by the sight.

"Time to go, Sammy." Dean said in a remarkably calm voice.

"Yeah, I think it is." Sam replied in the same tone.

Stepping out together, the brothers headed down the hall towards the room that would hopefully take them back to their time. Dean's leg seemed to be bothering him again, so Sam matched his stride to the injured man's, afraid that the smoke was going to beat them to the door.

"How much time do we have, Sam?"

The younger man glanced briefly at his watch. "About ten minutes. I sure do hope this smoke stays on this side of the door and Rusty pulls through for us."

Dean smirked, "Amen, Brother!"

Sam snorted at the response, put his arm around his big brother's waist, and stepped up the pace just enough that Dean could keep up with his help. "Only a few more steps to go, dude. We'll make it."

Only able to nod his agreement from the combination of the smoke and the effort it took to keep going, the older man breathed a huge sigh of relief as they approached their room. Dropping the weapons bag to the floor, he turned the knob and threw himself through the opening into the old room.

Sam followed, nearly tripping over Dean who had landed on the floor. Recovering his footing, he turned to the door, slamming it shut and collapsing against it as his lungs relished the untainted air. The young hunter glanced down at his brother on the floor who was panting equally as hard, trying to take in as much of the clean air as possible.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, in a minute." The older man rolled over onto his side in an effort to get more comfortable.

"We've gotta get away from the door, dude. Rusty needs to be able to open it."

Coughing and nodding, Dean rolled on over, getting up on his hands and knees to crawl several feet away, collapsing once again — this time face down.

Sam made an almost superhuman effort to get his breathing under control, managing to bring the coughing down to tiny eruptions; enough so that he felt able to move his lanky form away from the door. He shoved the weapons bag with his foot as he passed by it, making sure the door would clear it when it opened, and allowed himself to fall next to his brother.

"We gotta get up on the bed, Sam."

"I know. In a minute. Can you make it by yourself?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Think we'll be lucky enough to have the room change on its own?"

"Nope. Better safe than sorry, though."

"Yep."

Scrambling up onto the bed, the brothers tried to make themselves comfortable, even with the faint acrid smell of smoke beginning to sneak into the room. They'd known it couldn't last; they couldn't block the edges of the door without preventing Rusty from opening it from the other side. The smoke was bound to get in. Sam tore the sleeves from his flannel shirt, handing one to his brother and folding one to cover his mouth and nose.

"Eww. Man, what makes you think I want to shove your BO onto my nose?"

"Your choice, dude: me or the smoke. Smoke'll kill you, but I don't think I will."

"Not sure about that, but I guess I'll take the chance." Dean elbowed his little brother, but folded the sleeve and placed it over his face, only leaving his eyes exposed. "Dude! You need to change your shower soap."

Sam snorted, gently smacking his brother on the shoulder. Both hunters settled down to wait, thinking about the fire in the basement and the smoke that was coming down the hall for them, knowing from the strength of the fire and smoke that they had done their job with the spirit.

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The redheaded clerk looked at his watch for perhaps the hundredth time in five minutes. _It's almost time! Should I wait or go ahead?_ Finally making a decision, Rusty grabbed the key that Dean had given him like it was more precious than gold and hurried out the office door toward room 113. Reaching the room, he made sure the brick was still handy before inserting the key. To his utter surprise, there were several bricks lying where there had been only one before, causing him to pause, frowning. "What the hell?" he mumbled. "This can't be a good thing."

With a renewed sense of urgency, he stuck the key into the slot and removed it, holding his breath and giving a jerk when the light came on. He stuck the card in and removed it again, faster this time, but getting the same result. Again he tried, but slower, getting the same result. Over and over he tried, but there was no change; the light came on immediately. He even opened the door several times to verify that it was still a motel room, slamming his fist into the door on the final try and screaming out his frustration, not caring about disturbing the guest that he'd checked in earlier.

As Rusty stood in the night, gently banging his forehead into the door and trying to work out what the problem could be, a horrible thought came to him almost causing the clerk to collapse to the ground. _I'm too late! They're already dead and the other room is gone. No, no, no, no! They can't be, but why won't the door open? They said I could bring them back; could get them out of there. Sam said I was the key…_ The light dawned so brightly and with such force, it was like being struck by lightning. "I _am_ the key! _I'm_ the key!"

Turning away from room 113, the clerk belied his age and his paunch, running as fast as he could back to the office. He hurried behind the counter, panting, fumbling open the drawer that held the blank keys, scattering some of them onto the floor in his haste to get one. He held onto his grandmother's locket with one hand as he punched the numbers into the little machine and slid the card down the side to program it. The digital display indicated the card was active, so Rusty took off toward the now hated motel room. Stopping at the door, he tried desperately to get his breathing under control. _I don't need to have a heart attack now; not now, please! This is too important."_

Finally fairly certain he wasn't going to go into cardiac arrest on the spot, and with his breathing under better control, he put his key into the slot, waited a beat, and pulled it out. The light blinked a couple of times and came on. _Yes!_ His eyes lifted heavenward in thanks even as his hand reached for the handle, opening the door and rushing inside. Remembering himself, the clerk caught the door before it slammed shut and shoved the brick into place to hold the door open. He turned back to the room and gasped as he took in the scene. The room was filling with smoke, making it difficult to breathe. He could see on the other side of the room that the brothers were lying on the four-poster bed, their faces covered with cloths. Pulling his own shirt off, covering his mouth and nose, Rusty hurried to the bed.

Dean was lying on his back with his face turned toward his brother. Sam was lying on his right side facing the older man with his hand resting on his big brother's bicep; both appeared to be unconscious. _Damndamndamn! I'm too late! Why didn't I figure it out sooner?_ Deciding to beat himself up later, Rusty shook Dean's arm and called his name. At first, there was no response, but the older hunter finally turned his head toward the sound of his name, moaning and thrashing as a coughing fit overtook him.

"Dean? Take it easy, Dean. It's Rusty. I've got the door open so we can get you boys out of here. Help me with your brother, Dean. Let's go!"

The hunter's eyes opened at the mention of his little brother and he turned toward Sam. The younger man was facing him with his arm outstretched toward him. Trying to stifle his coughs, Dean added his voice to Rusty's in an attempt to rouse the younger man. "Sam! Come on, Sammy, we gotta get outta here. Rusty's got the door open. Sam, now!" Both men were shaking the taller man in an attempt to rouse him. Turning to Rusty and trying to suppress a cough, Dean said, "We don't have time for this, man. Help me with him."

The clerk took Sam's legs and pulled the lanky hunter toward the end of the bed, while Dean got behind his brother to push him forward. He shoved, grunting and coughing, desperate to get Sam off the bed. The smoke was getting very thick in the room and Dean began to fear that he and Rusty would succumb before being able to get Sam out. With one final push from Dean and pull from the motel clerk, Sam was at the edge. The older hunter scrambled off the bed and around to once again grab Sam under his arms, clasping his hands over Sam's and holding them up onto the unconscious man's chest. Trying unsuccessfully to suppress his coughs, Dean was only able to nod his head at their new friend; both men moving toward the propped-open door.

Once the three men were free of the room, they collapsed to the ground, the two older men coughing and sucking in the fresh air. Rusty got up to close the door, but Dean grabbed at his ankle as he passed by. The redhead paused and looked down questioningly, neither of them able to speak. Dean pointed at the weapons bag and looked up at the other man, hoping to get his meaning across. Rusty looked in the direction the hunter was indicating, saw the bag, nodded, and reached down to pat the younger man's shoulder as he headed back inside. He attempted to lift the bag but lacked the strength, so gave it a shove with his foot until it was safely outside the room. Kicking the brick away from the door, he allowed it to shut behind him, and collapsed once again to the ground where Dean was trying to rouse his younger brother.

Placing fingers on Sam's carotid artery and finding a pulse, Dean dropped his head on his little brother's chest, whether for comfort or to listen to the beating heart, the worried man couldn't really say. Either way, it sounded good and it felt good, not that he'd ever say that to Sam. The gentle rise and fall of his brother's chest was comforting, indicating breathing, but he didn't like the shallowness of it nor the sound he was hearing from the lungs.

"How is he?"

Dean glanced up at the clerk, grinning at the sight of him literally wringing his hands. "He'll be okay." _Come on, Sammy, breathe for me! We made it out, dude. You've got to be okay. _Without further words, Dean moved Sam into position, took a deep breath of his own and puffed it into Sam's mouth, watching as his chest expanded then relaxed again. "One more time, little brother, then you'd better start coughing, okay?" The action was repeated, this time with the desired result. Sam lurched up, coughing and gagging as he did so. The older sibling moved behind him to offer support until the coughing passed and he could hold himself up.

Finally able to speak, Sam looked around at his big brother in shock. "D-d-dude! W-w-were you k-kissing me?" He rubbed a hand across his mouth.

Dean snorted as he moved to allow Sam to sit on his own. "You needed to cough to clear your lungs and I needed you to wake up. Although, I gotta say, Sammy, I had no idea…" He easily dodged the half-hearted swing his brother took. "We did it, man. Rusty got us out and I'm pretty sure the other room is gone. Did you have any trouble, Rusty?" He glanced at the clerk.

Having slightly calmed at Sam's revival, but still feeling the effects of the stressful last few hours, the redhead ran his hands through his hair and down his face. "It wouldn't open." His eyes sought both brothers' as if trying to reassure himself they were there. "It wouldn't open."

"Calm down, dude. It's okay. It did open, and you got us out."

"The key you gave me didn't work. I tried and tried, but it wouldn't open." The clerk continued to wring his hands and step from one foot to the other in his anguish.

The brothers looked at each other in confusion, then back to the older man.

"I almost went crazy from fear. I didn't want you to go and the pressure of being the one to open the door for you was driving me insane. When it didn't work . . . I finally remembered what you had said about me being the key and decided it might literally be the truth." He clasped the locket around his neck. "I ran back to the office and made my own key. That one worked. I guess it had to be _my_ key, not one that was made for you and given to me." He shrugged, nearly collapsing as it finally sank in that it was over and they were all safe.

"Huh," the brothers said in unison.

"Rusty, man, you are a genius! We didn't think about that being a literal statement, just that it had to be you to get us out." Dean glanced at his still slightly coughing brother. "We're definitely in your debt." He clapped the older man on the shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Turning to Sam, he asked, "Do you think you can get up, yet? I want our friend here to try his key in the lock again to see what we get."

"Yeah," Sam coughed as he struggled to rise with his brother's help.

When all three men were standing, they turned as one to face Room 113. The Winchesters looked at the door, then at the key, and then at Rusty. The older man looked at the door, then at the Winchesters, and at the key. Standing a little straighter, the clerk placed his key in the slot. The light hesitated, but finally became green. Three mouths dropped open, but it was Rusty who took the handle and opened the door. The men threw their hands up to protect their faces, jumping back to escape the heat from the room full of flames before them.

"Close it, dude!"

Three hands reached for the door, but again Rusty was the one to take hold of it, pulling it shut with a loud bang. The smell of smoke and burning wood dissipated as they stood staring at the door in bewilderment. Sam was the first to recover, removing his room key from his pocket, sliding it into the slot, removing it, and opening the door — onto a perfectly normal motel room. There was no heat, no flames, no smoke, not even the smell of smoke. It was just a room, smelling like any of the other motel rooms they stayed in. Hesitantly, the brothers stepped through the door, both half afraid that it was all going to vanish and they'd be back on the other side. As nothing happened after several seconds, they began to relax, smiles appearing simultaneously on their faces.

"Come on in, Rusty. It's just a room!" Dean beamed at the older man, reaching out to pull him forward.

Reluctantly, the older man allowed himself to be pulled into the room, his eyes taking everything in as he moved. "It's really true, then? It's done? We did it?" His gaze landed on the brothers as he turned around in the room. "It really worked! I don't even smell smoke." Rusty's face broke into a huge grin as he clapped his hands together, laughing and dancing in celebration.

The brothers couldn't help but catch his enthusiasm, breaking into huge grins themselves. Sam even reached for Rusty to dance, too, but his lungs objected to the increased activity, bringing on a coughing fit to be remembered. Dean reached out to grab his sagging brother and helped him to a chair. "You okay, Sam?"

Still wanting to laugh, his face still in a huge grin, the younger brother nodded his head. "I'll be fine. Nice to see a client happy with our work, huh?" He indicated the happy clerk with his chin.

"Yeah, it really is," Dean chuckled as he eyed the dancing man. "I think he might actually keep this up all night if given the chance. I'm not sure how I feel about that, though. This is our room and I don't know about you, but I'm beat. What do you think, shall we throw him out or give it a little longer?"

Sam studied the clerk for a second then turned to his brother. "Is there any beer in the refrigerator?"

The older sibling's face lit up at the thought. "I don't know, but we can sure find out!" He moved over to the small appliance, crossing his fingers as he opened the door. Inside sat an unopened six-pack of chilled brew. Dean pulled it out, giving one to his brother, one to the delighted dancing man, and took one for himself.

Rusty became very serious as he held his bottle up to make a toast. The brothers straightened their faces, giving the clerk their full and serious attention. "To the bravest and best men who've ever stayed at this motel. They solved a very old mystery, and saved lives in the process. To my new friends, the Wilburs!" The three men clanked their bottles together and took deep pulls on their brews as the Winchesters glanced at each other and smirked.

They finished off the rest of the six-pack in amiable conversation until headlights pulled into the parking lot, bringing the redhead back to reality. "I've got to take care of this customer. Boys, it's been really . . . It's been interesting." He took each of their hands in turn as he made to leave.

"We'll be leaving in the morning, Rusty so we probably won't see you. Thank you for saving our lives." Dean put his arm around the clerk's shoulder as he walked him through the door, waving goodbye, the older man hurried down the walk to the office. Dean held the door which led to the parking lot open for a second. The Impala was sitting right in front of their room. Standing back, he turned toward Sam, but indicated the outside as he grinned. "Isn't that just about the most beautiful thing you've seen in a long time."

The youngest Winchester smiled as he held his beer bottle up in a salute.

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Dean walked into the motel room the next morning as Sam was coming out of the shower. The older hunter put some bagels and coffee on the table as he removed his jacket. "I took some of the bagels and went to see Betty. Knew we wouldn't be around to take her to dinner, so I took breakfast to her." Dean's face was alight with something his brother couldn't identify.

"So I take it you had a good time?" Sam grinned.

"I really did. That lady is really something. I wish our "times" could have jived, but I really did enjoy spending time with her. She's quite a woman!"

Sam grinned at the genuine smile on his brother's face. "You ready to get going?"

"Yeah. Packing won't take long, as usual."

The brothers were moving rather slowly, feeling their aches and pains from the previous day's adventure. Sam's lungs were fairly clear, but his throat was sore from the smoke and coughing. Dean's leg was sore and a little stiff, but he wasn't about to stay in that place one more night. Sam offered to go to the office to check out while Dean loaded the car and his big brother let him.

A few minutes later, Sam returned with a package. Dean looked at him in surprise. "What's that?"

"I don't know. I turned in the keys, told Kim we were leaving, and she gave me this. She said that Rusty left it for us. I thought I'd bring it back to the car to open it."

"What're you waiting for, dude? Open it!" Dean looked like a five-year-old at Christmas, causing his little brother to chuckle as he tore open the paper to reveal a box that had been taped shut. The older hunter produced his knife in a split second and slit the tape holding the flaps together. Sam pulled the flaps open to reveal a note along with a treasure trove of goodies. He gave the note to his brother and started going through the box. There were Twinkies, Oreos, Trailmix, power bars, and at the bottom of the box a large bag of Peanut M&Ms.

"Wow, Sammy, there's stuff in here for both of us. You can have the power bars and Trailmix and I'll take the Twinkies, Oreos, and the M&Ms."

"Uh huh, we'll see about that. What does the note say?"

"Oh. 'Dean and Sam – This is just a small thank you for your help. Who knows what might have happened if you hadn't stopped at the Seashell Motel and taken care of the spirits. Here are some munchies for the road. Enjoy and stay safe. Rusty' What a great guy!"

"Yeah. This whole thing really freaked him out didn't it?" Sam headed around to the passenger side as Dean got behind the wheel.

"It did, but he came through for us. I'll bet he's gone to tell Betty all about it." The older hunter laughed with a little twinkle in his eye as he glanced at his brother.

Sam chuckled and began to go through the box again. "Do you want any of this stuff now?"

"Nah. We can save it for later. I want some coffee and eggs." Dean turned the key in the ignition and the car roared to life, seemingly as anxious as the brothers to get on the road. Dropping the gear shift into drive, the black car peeled out of the parking lot and the Winchesters put another town in their rear view mirror.

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Rusty arrived at work several hours later, noting with a little sadness that the big black car was gone. He was pretty sure he was going to miss those young men. Before starting his shift, he took the key he'd made and headed down the walk towards their room. He slipped the key into the slot and pulled it out again. The light came on immediately, but he opened the door to make sure. It was just a room. He started to walk away, but turned back to give it one more try. This time, the light blinked before coming on. In trepidation, he pushed the handle and opened the door onto — a motel room. He almost fainted from relief. _It really is over._ He looked out towards the road. _God bless you and keep you safe, boys. _The clerk headed toward the office with lightness in his step to begin his shift.

Fin

**WWW**

A/N: Thank you to all my loyal readers. You've really been so very kind and supportive and I love you all. Thanks for coming along on this little ride.

A/N2: I want to put a little plug in here for KazCon 2009 to be held in Lawrence, Kansas August 7-9, 2009. We had an awesome time last year and I know it'll be really special this year. The link to the website, which is still being filled out, is on my profile page. Please check it out and we hope to see you there.


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